Make Me Believe
by Queen of Kaos
Summary: Cameron Tucker's childhood dream is finally within reach. Unfortunately, she finds herself torn between her husband's lack of support, and a tantalizing new friend's abundance of it. TakerOC. Rated for language and sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: I have other stories, I know, but I can't seem to get away from Taker right now. This story, in a lot of ways, is the answer to those of you who had a hard time swallowing Winter's choice at the end Nothing Compares. I like to think of it as the other side of the Career/Family coin.**

**Once again, I have to say a huge thank you to bkerbunny for encouraging my current obsession! And thanks to you, I may never get the image of Taker in a Hooters uniform out of my head. Thank you so much! ;p**

**As always, your reviews are not only encouraged, but they are coveted and appreciated. Enjoy!**

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"Wrap her up, Tucker! Get on her!"

The thin layer of sweat covering Cameron Tucker's opponent made her wrestling trainer's instruction impossible. As she struggled to wrap her arms and legs around the thicker woman, Cameron found her focus drifting. There was too much going on in her life to think about a fucking sleeper hold.

"Goddammit, Tucker!" Stomping on the mat, her trainer shouted again. "You're gonna fuckin' break her neck!"

She felt the opponent, a younger woman named Ashley, slip from her grasp and roll to her left, planting her forearm on the mat as she stood and grabbed Cameron's ankles, twisting them in a figure-four leg lock. Without so much as a thought, Cameron kicked her legs, grunting as she fought out of the hold.

"Are you fucking retarded, Tucker?" came the next chastisement. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Blowing the whistle around his neck, Del Rice grabbed Cameron by one of her thin arms and yanked her to her feet. "Answer me when I'm talkin' to you!"

Rolling her eyes, Cameron pulled her arm away and slid under the bottom rope of the regulation wrestling ring. Slamming the door with her shoulder, she heard it clank loudly behind her as she kicked the gravel in the old parking lot of the training facility.

The day her husband, Ryan, had agreed to allow her a portion of their tax refund for wrestling school, she felt as though she'd won the lottery. Since she was a small girl, growing up in Tyler, Texas, she had dreamed about standing in the middle of the squared circle, performing for a crowd of excited fans, and feeding off of their energy. Now she had her chance. In only twenty-six hours, she would be lacing up the boots that she had worked a double shift to afford, performing her first singles match. If she could pull her shit together.

For all of the grace he had shown in sacrificing his new television for his wife's dream, Ryan's support seemed to run short when he realized that Cameron was going to spend more than a week pursuing her childish desire to be a professional wrestler.

The heated arguments over unmet ends, worsening credit scores, and his perceived lack of her contributions to their financial troubles had come to a head earlier in the morning. While Ryan showered in preparation for another grueling day on his father's ranch, the unpaid water bill finally caught up to the couple, and he had been left high and dry with a head full of foaming shampoo.

Of course, it had been Cameron's fault. She had given up an extra shift at the bowling alley to attend another one of her ridiculous classes, and because of her selfishness, the couple didn't have the money to cover the water bill. Instead of telling Ryan that they didn't have the money, she had just ignored it, or so he seemed to think. She didn't bother arguing.

He wouldn't care that she had put in a combined seventy hours at her three jobs in the last few weeks. He wouldn't care that she had been the one to notice how hard his two-day flu vacation had hit their bank account. And he certainly wouldn't care that hitting the gym after sixteen hour days was the only way she could cope with the stressful roller coaster that their lives had become.

"Don't you dare EVER walk away from me!" Del's angry voice sounded as the door slammed behind him. "Is that clear?" he asked, grabbing Cameron's arm and spinning her to face him.

Pulling away once again, Cameron narrowed her eyes, fighting the urge to smack his face. Had he not been six and a half feet tall, made of nothing but muscles and taut flesh, she might have, though. "Get the fuck away from me," she snapped back.

It wasn't like Cameron to snap. Her normally peaceful demeanor had been a bright spot in Del's classes, and the ease with which she picked up most of the moves impressed him to no end. Her sarcastic sense of humor during after-hours work outs had helped him see her as more than just another semi-athletic pretty face. She was one of the few trainees who had managed to become his friend.

Stepping toward her, Del ran a calloused hand down Cameron's arm. "What the hell is goin' on with you, Cami? This isn't like you."

Dragging her hands over her hair, Cameron caught a whiff of her own body odor and scrunched her nose. "I'm tired, Del," she sighed, shaking her head and kicking at another piece of gravel. "I stink," she added with a soft pout. "My husband is an asshole and I've gotta get in the ring tomorrow night in front of an actual crowd." Her dark eyes searched his, a sense of vulnerability filling her expression. "Do you think I'm ready?"

Shaking his head, Del rested his hands on his chiseled waist. "I wouldn't have booked you if I didn't think you were ready." Turning back for the building, he sighed heavily. "Take five to clear your head. Come back inside when you're done wasting my time."

Exhaling loudly, Cameron tucked her hair behind her ears and watched his massive form retreating. "Del," she called out, smiling softly when he turned. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he conceded. "And as your friend, I understand," he smiled. With his eyebrow raised, he leveled her in his gaze. "But as your trainer, I'm not gonna coddle you. There are too many girls in there," he pointed over his shoulder, "who want this more than anything."

When he was gone, she nodded, asking herself the same question that had plagued her for months. How bad did she really want this life?

---

Two hours later, bruised and aching, Cameron hitched her bag over her shoulder and cast a glance at her watch. If she hurried, she could still grab some take out from the diner and make it home before Ryan went to bed for the night. Maybe they could talk about what had happened earlier in the morning.

"Hey, Cami, come here," Del shouted from the doorway of his small office. "Got someone I want you to meet."

Shaking her head, Cameron checked her watch again and then shot him a hurried look. "How 'bout later?" she asked, taking another step toward the exit. "I need to get home before Ryan heads to bed."

But Del insisted. "Just come here for a second," he ordered. With a groan, Cameron walked toward the office, stopping short of entering. "Cameron Tucker, meet the Undertaker."

As he stood from his place on the edge of Del's desk, Mark Calaway extended a hand to the tall, toned brunette blushing before him. He smiled when she placed her trembling hand into his. "Nice to meet you," he said, his voice a soft contrast to the hardened lines in his age-weathered face.

Cameron could feel her cheeks flaming as she continued to hold his large hand. She wasn't sure if she was more in awe of his intimidating stature, or his overwhelming status. She had been a fan of his since his debut, more than fifteen years earlier. To merely stand before a man whom she had respected for so long was breathtaking.

When her inability to speak grew into an awkward silence, Del moved around his desk to begin shutting down his computer for the evening. He said nothing, as though he knew it was a moment Cameron needed to experience for herself. There wasn't anything he could say to make the moment more special for her.

Finally releasing her hand, Mark crossed his large arms over his chest, but never removed his gaze from her sunkissed face. "Del tells me you've got a lot of talent, Cameron," he said, breaking the heavy silence.

"Yeah, well, Del's got a drinking problem," she shot without thinking, drawing a laugh from both men.

Resting his weight against the edge of the desk, Mark crossed on ankle over the other and considered Cameron once again. "So how long have you been training?" he asked.

Cameron tucked her hair behind her ears and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her warm up pants. "I started working out about six months ago," she answered shyly. "But I've been working in the ring for about four."

Mark nodded his head slowly, processing her words and trying like hell not to focus his gaze too heavily on her full lips. "And your first show's tomorrow, right?"

"My first match," she corrected. "I've been a valet a couple of times," she added, as though that would somehow give her more credibility in his eyes.

Del rattled his keys and patted his friend on the shoulder. "You ready to get outta here, man?" When Mark nodded and pushed off of the desk, Del ushered them both out of the office and through the gym. "See you tomorrow night, Cami," he nodded, jogging off toward his car.

When they were alone, Mark smiled at the young woman who hadn't stopped staring at him since they met. "I'm anxious to see you in action tomorrow," he winked, watching her face grow pale at the thought. "You're gonna be fine, Cameron."

She nodded and licked her lips, finally feeling a little bit less like a dorky fan. "Thanks," she answered, noting that Del's car was rolling up to the curb. "I better get home. It was so cool to meet you," she added, thrusting her hand out for him to take one last time.

As she walked slowly to the car, Cameron had a hard time remembering what would be waiting for her at home. She had a hard time thinking about anything other than the warm, green eyes that had been staring at her for the last ten minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Once again, I'm blown away by the support you've all shown to this story already. I had a hard time getting started with this one - ya know that feeling when you have a million ideas and the words just won't come to flesh them out? That's how I was. But I'm rolling now, so I hope to have some frequent updates for you. As always, Enjoy!**

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Another late night. Another missed opportunity. Another early-morning fight.

As Cameron shifted the weights above her shoulders, she let out a primal scream, aching to release the tension surging through her body. Each straining muscle squealed against the movements she was demanding, but she couldn't stop. She had to focus. And the only way she could think to do that was to power it out of her body.

The blaring music in the background made it impossible for Cameron to hear the gym door opening and closing. She was oblivious to her surroundings all together until a large shadow fell over her. Jumping, she nearly dropped the bar over her head. "Jesus Christ!"

Mark smirked slightly, taking the bar from her hands and returning it to the rack. "Sorry about that," he apologized, chuckling at the terrified look on her face. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah," Cameron huffed, tearing the fingerless gloves from her hands as she stood from the bench. "Well, you're a scary guy," she shot. The man who had, just the night before, seemed imposing and awe-inspiring, was now just another irritant, as far as she was concerned.

Watching with an amused twinkle in his eye, Mark leaned against the wall as Cameron began throwing punches at the bag in the center of the room. "You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't relax your shoulders," he advised.

Cameron ignored him, picturing his face on the bag before her as she threw another right. Men, in general, were pissing her off and she didn't feel like being bothered by one who thought he knew more than she did.

"Cameron," Mark called her name, walking toward the bag and holding it still as she swung a left. With an oomph, he stepped back. "Damn, woman," he grunted, gingerly rubbing his abdomen. "Hope you're not that stiff tonight in the ring."

With another roll of her dark eyes, Cameron shook her head and threw her arms out to the side. "Did you want something, man? Did you come over here to watch me swoon over you some more? Cause I'm not really in the mood to be all star struck right now."

Mark rested his hands on his hips and shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, because that's what I'm about," he shot sarcastically. "I just thought I would stop by and see how you were feelin' about tonight, but I guess that's pretty apparent," he said.

Cameron moved to her gym bag and dug a bottle of water out of the side pocket. Smoothing one hand over her sweaty hair, she gulped a few drinks and lowered her eyes. "I don't even know what the big deal is," she shrugged. "I'm just jobbin' out anyway." When Del had told her the plan for the evening, she had been less-than-thrilled, to say the least. Not that she had any reason to believe she should win her first match, but knowing that she was going to lose didn't put the butterflies in her stomach at ease. "Maybe if I hurt somebody, they'll have to remember me as something other than the loser girl."

It was Mark's turn to roll his eyes. He was starting to remember why he found rookies so frustrating. "Yeah, you'll be the dangerous bitch that nobody wants to work with," he countered. "Look, you may not realize it," he added when her shoulders slumped, "but everything you do in that ring matters. Fans don't remember whether or not you win or lose the match. They just remember the high spots during the running of it."

Raising an eyebrow, Cameron chuckled. "So says the man who is undefeated at Wrestle Mania," she reminded. But the serious gaze in Mark's emerald orbs said he wasn't amused. "Alright. Fine. You're right. I know you're right. I'm just kinda nervous," she lied. Though she had a little anxiety about the match, it was nothing compared to the bull shit she would endure upon arriving home afterward.

"It's cool," Mark assured her, nodding his head and lowering his frame onto one of the weight benches. With his arms crossed over his chest, he reclined slightly and stretched his legs comfortably. "My first match?" Shaking his head, he laughed, a slight pink tint creeping up his neck. "I was backin' out of the driveway at my momma's house, and I ran smack into an oak tree." The smile that twitched on Cameron's lips was more beautiful than she realized. "Even the best get nervous."

Nibbling on her bottom lip, Cameron watched him carefully as he spoke. Though he appeared tough as nails, she could see something softer behind his eyes, something understanding. To think that even the Undertaker had felt this way before his first match had more a calming effect than any of his words had.

"I just want everything to be perfect, ya know?" she confided, her stance relaxing considerably as she opened up to him. "This is what I've wanted forever. This is why I've pushed myself to the brink of pain and exhaustion," she admitted. "I want it to be perfect."

Taking a deep breath, Mark looked at the red leather wrestling boots she was withdrawing from her bag. When she produced a pleated, leather skirt, perfectly matching her boots, he felt a rumbling deep in his gut. "Okay, you want my advice?"

"Oh, now you're asking if I want it?" she teased, pulling a tank top out of the bag and laying it with the other apparel.

Mark took the dig in stride, his eyes sweeping over the curves of her body before he spoke again. "Honestly? If Del thinks you're ready for this, then you're ready," he assured her. "Plus, you're female, which means you have a built-in garuntee, quite frankly," he smiled, licking his lips sub-consciously.

If there was one thing Cameron hated more than anything, it was the assumption that she was under-qualified as a wrestler just because she was a woman. Maybe she would never deliver a Tombstone Piledriver, but she had some tricks up her sleeve. "And what," she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and raising an eyebrow to challenge him, "is that?"

Shrugging, Mark stood from the bench and looked over the outfit she had laid out. "If something goes horribly wrong? Nip slip," he winked. "They'll remember ya for sure."

Cameron just groaned and smacked his arm before fishing an oversized towel out of her bag. "I need to shower and change," she announced, checking her watch. "Fuck," she added, running a hand over her head again. "I gotta get my butt in gear."

Thirty minutes before time be at the old armory for her first match, Cameron was just stepping out of the locker room. "FUCK!" she shouted, rushing around the equipment. Slamming into the free weight bench, she cringed and nearly doubled over. "God dammit!"

Mark smiled from his spot in the doorway. She wasn't the most coordinated person he'd ever met, but he could see the excitement beginning to build behind her eyes. "Need a lift?"

"I need a hair dryer," she grumbled, raking her fingers through her wet, matted hair. "I'm gonna look like shit tonight."

Undeterred, Mark rested a hand on the small of her back and led her into the parking lot. "Hop on," he instructed, pointing to his bike. When Cameron shot him a skeptical look, he shrugged. "What?"

She wanted to tell him that she couldn't just jump on his motorcycle and go riding through town. People would see her, and they would talk. As if half the town didn't have enough to say about "Crazy Cameron" who was spending all of her husband's money on a ridiculous hobby. She didn't need to add rumors of a torrid affair to the mix.

"I'll meet you there," she said, trailing her fingers through her dark hair nervously.

As if he understood her hesitation, Mark nodded and straddled the bike. Gunning the engine, he tossed her a wink. "See you in the ring," he called, peeling out of the parking lot.

Taking a deep breath, Cameron shouldered her bag and walked quickly toward her car. As far as she was concerned, this was it. If the match went well, she would continue to pursue her dream. If not, she would be forced to walk away and admit that Ryan, and nearly everyone else she knew, had been right.

---

"I hope beer's alright, fellas. We ain't got nothin' else," Cameron said, the smile on her lips seemingly drawn on.

Though she had lost the six minute match, no one could deny that both she and Ashley had pulled a showstopper out of thin-air. She had never attempted a moonsault in her life, but being poised on the top rope, it just felt natural. The crowd had thundered for both of them when it was over. It was, as far as she could remember, the happiest day of her life.

Stepping over the threshold of the small trailer Cameron shared with her husband, Del looked around and cringed. It was clear that the house hadn't been cleaned for awhile. "Damn, woman," he laughed, throwing a bra onto the floor as he lowered himself onto the old, Salvation Army couch.

Cameron blushed deeply when Mark looked around for a place to sit. "I think there's a bar stool under here somewhere," she told him, shovelling a pile of clothes onto the floor. "Sorry about the mess. I haven't been home much," she explained, grabbing three beers from the refrigerator and handing them around the room. "And Ryan's been workin' a lot, too, so it's kind of a mess in here."

"Kinda?" Del snorted, drinking from his beer as a loud 'thud' sounded in the back room. "Uh oh," he winked at Cameron, propping his feet on top of a pizza box on the coffee table. "Somebody's gonna get in trouble," he teased.

Casting her eyes to the amused smirk on Mark's face, she saw the bathroom light pop on. "Exuse me, guys," she said softly, walking in the direction of her angry husband in the hallway. "Sorry," she said, her bottom lip pouting out as she rested a hand on his bare waist.

Ryan Tucker had been every high school girls fantasy at one time. Truth be told, he was the object of more than one fantasy still. His thick, dark hair flopped in waves around his face, still giving him the boyish charm he had carried most of his life. He stood nearly six and a half feet tall, his body hard and toned from years of hard work on the farm with his father and brothers. When they were younger, making out in the bed of his truck after football games had been like heaven for Cameron, with Ryan's full, pouty lips moving over her in hungry desparation. There was nothing about his appearance that needed any improvement, as far as she was concerned.

Looking up into his dark eyes, she pressed a kiss to his chin. "Go back to bed, Baby," she whispered. "We'll be quiet. I promise."

But Ryan was already awake. And not very happy about it. "Dammit, Cameron, I gotta go to work in," he squinted to look at the clock in the kitchen. "What the fuck time is it?"

"Twelve thirty," she answered softly, lowering her eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry we woke you," she added.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Ryan glared at his wife. "Get 'em outta here," he insisted. When she rolled her eyes, he shook his head insistently. "I have to get up in four hours, Cameron. Somebody has to pay the bills around here," he spat.

"I made a hundred bucks tonight," she retaliated.

When his eyes swept over her little leather skirt and her tank top, he huffed. "On a pole?" he asked.

From his place in the living room, Mark felt his hands balling into fists. He understood her husband being angry - he'd thrown his own share of tantrums after guys rolled into the hotel at all hours of the morning. But the tone in which he was talking down to Cameron made Mark more than a little angry.

But before Mark could say anything, Cameron defended herself. "Look, tonight was the most exciting night of my life. I got a standing ovation, okay?" Ryan rolled his shoulders and looked above his wife's head, staring directly at the hulking man at the end of the hall. "And if I wanna celebrate with my friends, I'll do it. God knows your friends have kept me up enough times!"

Returning his attention to his wife, Ryan seethed. "Fine! You don't wanna kick 'em out? I will." Brushing past his wife, he charged down the hall, looking directly at Del. "I let you have my wife for the night. I think it's time you give her back," he said.

Del was about to give the young punk a piece of his mind when Cameron came back down the hall, resting her beer on the kitchen counter. "Thanks for the support tonight, guys," she said, pushing Ryan out of the way as she extended an arm to Del. "I'll see you tomorrow," she added, giving him a withering look that said she was sorry for her husband.

With a nod, Del took her hand and pushed himself off of the couch. "Why don't you take tomorrow night off, Cami. You'll need your rest after tonight."

She nodded and turned toward Mark, afraid to look up into his eyes. What had felt like a crowning moment just a few hours earlier had quickly turned into a humiliating one. Though she knew she shouldn't care, she wanted Mark to think she was tough, that she wasn't just putting on a facade in the ring. Being chastised by her husband wasn't helping the image.

Following the men onto the porch, Cameron watched wordlessly as Del walked toward his car. When Mark stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned, she blushed, pushing her hair behind her ears. "I'm headin' outta town tomorrow," he said, extending a hand to her. "You were great tonight, though. I'm glad I got to meet ya, Cameron Tucker."

When she took his hand, Cameron smiled through her impending tears. "It was my pleasure," she assured him. "I wish we coulda spent some more time together."

Mark released her hand with a shrug, tucking his hands in his pockets when Del honked the car horn at him. "I'm sure we haven't seen the last of each other, Sweetheart," he winked, turning to make his way to the car.

Pushing away the flutter that was filling her gut, Cameron moved back into the house and surveyed the mess that was her home. She had been filled with such joy just a few minutes earlier, so much excitement and possibility. But the mess around her, mixed with the confrontation with her husband, had chased it all away in a heartbeat.

Walking slowly back to the bedroom, she quickly shed her ring attire. Pulling one of Ryan's long tee shirts over her head, she slid between the covers and stared at the wall beside the bed. When Ryan's strong arms wrapped around her, and she felt his face buried between her shoulders, a sigh escaped her lips.

For as long as she had known Ryan, she had been in love with him. She had told her mother, after their first date, that she was going to marry him someday. The glint in his chocolate eyes on the day they had wed had never made her more proud. They had been nineteen-year-old kids, owning nothing but a few pieces of second hand furniture and a romanticized dream of marriage, where love always won and neither of them ever felt the strain of responsibility.

Cameron wiped a tear from her eye as she thought about where they had been, and where they were. They had never done anything without each other. They had been on their first date, gone to their first dance, lost their virginity, bought their first cars, and taken their first real vacation together. She wasn't sure she knew how to do anything without him standing at her side.

The only thing that scared her more than going it alone was the realization that she was willing to do it. Plagued by one thought, she drifted into a fitful sleep. _Do I love a possible career that I'm not even sure I can find that much success in more than my husband?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: This chapter is kind of short, but sometimes I think you can say what needs to be said with fewer words than normal. I hope you all enjoy it anyway! **

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As far as Cameron was concerned, there was absolutely no need for four thirty to come around twice in a day. The one in the afternoon was just fine - who needed another one?

Once she heard Ryan start his shower, Cameron struggled to blink her eyes against the darkness_. Does my throat hurt? My head? Am I gonna vomit? _It was the same checklist she ran down every morning, trying to come up with some excuse not to leave her bed. But the feeling of the air conditioning against her sweat-moistened skin reminded her that the electric bill would need to be paid at some point.

Rolling out of the bed, she cringed as her feet hit the floor. Every muscle in her body ached in the aftermath of the torture she had put it through the night before. Limping toward the kitchen, she set about making a sandwich for her husband. He was more than capable of fixing his own lunch, but she couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty for bringing people to the house when she knew he would be asleep.

Part of her had wanted him to be happy for her, to realize that other people supported her. But another part just wanted to pay him back for all of the late-night poker games and ESPN nights he and his friends had shared while she was trying to rest. The vengeful motivation brought on a guilt that she couldn't live with, so she had determined in the early morning hours that she would make him lunch and apologize before he headed off for the day.

By the time he stumbled out of the bathroom, dressed in ragged jeans and a tank top, he was rubbing his hand over his face and looking haggard. "Hey," he mumbled as he lowered himself to a bar stool and leaned against the counter heavily. "Sorry I was a dick last night," he apologized, raising his tired, blood shot eyes to his wife's face.

With a small smile, Cameron tossed a warm pop tart to husband before biting into one of her own. Leaning a hip against the counter opposite him, she shook her head. "I knew you'd be in bed," she admitted. "I'm sorry I brought them here."

Squinting against the harsh flourescent light overhead, Ryan's face twisted. "Was that the Undertaker that I kicked outta my house?" Cameron nodded as her husband flinched. "Dad's gonna kick my ass," he groaned.

Cameron chewed her breakfast, considering the man before her. He wasn't so bad. Not all the time. In fact, lookin' like he did in that moment, he was downright sexy. "It'll be our little secret," she winked.

A comfortable silence settled over them as the couple continued to eat, stealing furtive glances when the other wasn't looking. There was something easy about their relationship, something comforting about knowing damn near everything there was to know about each other. There was something calming about the way that they didn't have to speak to be in one another's company.

"So you really made a buck last night?" Ryan asked, sitting up straighter in his seat and stretching his lanky arms over his head. Cameron nodded and pulled the wad of ten dollars bills out of the gym bag sitting next to the counter. "What are you gonna do with it?"

She knew what she wanted to do with it, but she was a bit surprised that he was asking. "Well, do we have enough to cover the phone bill?" she asked. Ryan nodded. "Then I'm goin' grocery shopping after work," she smiled brightly. "And I'm buying fresh vegetables - nothing in a can," she added, bobbing her head happily. "And if you play your cards right, Mr. Tucker, you might just get steaks on the grill for dinner."

Ryan stood, laughing as he checked his watch. "Ya know what?" he asked, grabbing his car keys from the counter and moving around to hug his wife. "This wrestling thing might not be so bad after all." When she tilted her face, he covered her lips with his, savoring the taste that was sweetly Cameron. "I gotta get goin'," he growled, pulling back and grabbing her ass with both hands.

Cameron squealed slightly, pushing him away and handing him a metal lunchbox. "Go make us some money," she pointed toward the door, shocked when he kissed her again. "Be careful out there," she called.

He just waved her off as he headed out the door. Turning, he smiled. "I'm glad you did well last night," he winked.

"Thanks," she accepted the compliment with a blush, staring at the door as it shut behind him. Maybe Ryan would come around after all.

Though she considered cleaning up, Cameron could hear her mattress calling for her attention. She could catch a couple more hours of sleep before she had to be at the grocery store for her first job of the day. While standing on her feet for six hours wasn't a tantalizing concept, she knew that there was no other option. She might dream of professional wrestling, but it wasn't her career, and it wasn't her paycheck. Not yet anyway.

The ringing of the telephone woke Cameron again at seven o'clock. Groggily, she answered. "'lo?"

"Did I wake you?"

Squinting her eyes, Cameron wracked her sleep-rattled brain for some face to put with the gravelly voice. "Who is this?"

"Hm. . . I'll give you a hint," the soft, accented voice teased. "I'm a big fan."

As she struggled out from under her covers, Cameron swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. "Do I know you?" she asked, trying to hide the fear rising in her gut. While he sounded vaguely familiar, there was something gravely unsettling about being awakened by a man, claiming to be a fan, while she was home alone.

His rumbling laughter was quiet, but even. "It's Mark," he finally admitted. "I didn't scare ya, did I?"

Heaving a sigh of relief, Cameron growled. "You can't just call a girl and be all creepy sexy first thing in the morning," she chastised.

"You think I'm sexy?" Mark asked in a playful tone.

Cameron pouted, leaning against the headboard and blinking her eyes furiously. "I said creepy sexy," she yawned, stretching her arms above her head. "That's not a compliment," she added. "It's like a creepy guy tryin' to be sexy," she explained. "Like a rapist."

This time, Mark laughed a deep belly laugh. "I don't think I've ever had a woman tell me I sound like a rapist before," he said.

"Well, you might wanna keep it in mind the next time you make a wake up call." After a brief moment of silence, Cameron's brain began to catch up with her body. "So did you just call to scare me shitless, or did you actually want something?" She dragged her feet to the floor and began gathering her items for the shower.

"Actually, I did have a reason," Mark answered. "We're filmin' our No Mercy pay-per-view in Atlanta at the end of the month," he said. "And I was wondering if you would be interested in attending? As my guest? You and your husband," he added quickly, as if trying to keep her from getting the wrong idea.

Cameron couldn't stop the laugh that passed over her lips as she limped out of the bedroom, the muscles in her right thigh tight and sore. "Seriously? You'd do that for us?" Mark mumbled an affirmation. "That's awesome, Mark. I'll talk to Ryan, but yeah. I'd love to be there."

"Great," Mark responded. "Well, I'll let you get back to your dreams," he chuckled. "But I'll be lookin' forward to seein' you in a couple weeks, Cameron."

The way he said her name, the lazy manner in which it rolled over his lips, made her heart flutter in her gut as she mumbled her good bye. Now all she had to do was convince Ryan that they could afford a weekend in Atlanta. And convince herself that she was just excited about seeing a pay per view.


	4. Chapter 4

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: At first, I was honked that the alerts were down and I couldn't update this story. But then I re-read it, and shipped it off to my beta, bkerbunny (who's myspace page you should really check out, if you haven't yet - shameless plug), and realized that there were some things that needed to be tweaked. So, for the first and only time, I'm actually kinda grateful for the downtime. Anyway, now that it's back up and running, I hope y'all Enjoy!**

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"Alright, ladies. That's what I'm talkin' 'bout." 

"Just like that, Maria. You got it, baby."

"Nice, Mickie. Beautiful bulldog."

"That's it, Jillian. A little more speed, and that clothesline is perfection."

From her place in the tunnel of the arena, Cameron watched the women of the WWE practicing in the ring, hours before No Mercy was set to begin. An interpromotional tag match was set for the pay per view, and she would have been lying if she said she wasn't excited to see how it played out. But watching them rehearse was ten times better than anything she could have imagined.

The only thing that would have made her day any better would have been having Ryan at her side. Of course, given the way he had forbade her to make the trip, it was probably better that he had stayed home. She had spent the majority of the journey between Dallas and Atlanta vascilating between hoping he got trampled by a heard of angry longhorns, and feeling guilty for wishing harm on the man that she loved.

"Now that's how a submission move is supposed to look," Del interrupted her thoughts as Melina bent backward to pin Ashley to the mat.

Cameron crossed her arms over her chest, taking another step toward the action subconsciously. "Yeah, well, their coach is nicer than mine," she teased, an uncontrollable smile spreading over her lips.

"There's my favorite diva-in-training," a deep voice sounded from the shadows behind them.

Turning, Cameron launched herself into Mark's arms without hesitation. She had never, in her wildest dreams, allowed herself to imagine the kind of access she had been privvy to since arriving in Atlanta. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she giggled like a kid on Christmas morning, her legs wrapped tightly around him.

Mark supported the woman in his arms, laughing as he held her round behind in his hands. "You're welcome, Sweetheart," he finally said, returning her feet to the floor. "Come on," he encouraged, grabbing her hand and dragging her toward the ring.

"Alright, girls!" the trainer called, clapping his hands as the six women stopped their movements and turned toward him. "Time to hit the showers and make yourselves pretty."

By the time Mark approached the ring and lifted Cameron over the barricade, only Maria was left on the mat. "Hey, Taker," she waved, gulping at the water bottle in her hand. "Who's your friend?"

Stepping to the side, Mark pushed a suddenly dumb-struck Cameron closer to the petite, leggy woman descending the ring steps. "This is Cameron Tucker. She wrestles in the Dallas region," he introduced.

Maria's wide eyes were friendly as she extended a hand toward the woman. "Nice to meet you, Cameron. I'm Maria."

Cameron took Maria's hand in her own, muttering a shy "hello" in greeting. It was the exact same tone she had taken with nearly everyone she had met so far. It was all so overwhelming, so outside the realm of her imagination.

"You in a hurry, Maria?" Mark asked easily, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. When the bubbling woman shook her head, he nodded toward Cameron. "Why don't you show Cameron how it's done in the big ring?"

Before she knew what was happening, Cameron was locking up with Maria in the middle of the ring, listening for the rushed verbal cues from her partner as they sparred like old training partners. So immersed was she in the match they were constructing, Cameron failed to notice that Mark and Del had been joined by a few other men.

"Who's the girl?"

Turning his head slightly, Mark extended a hand to his boss and then returned his eyes to the action in the ring. "She's one of Del's," Mark spoke of the trainer who was shouting instructions to his pupil from outside the ring.

Vince McMahon watched with a critical eye as the woman exploded off of the ropes and then stopped short of knocking Maria to the mat. "She's hesitant," he deduced.

Mark shrugged easily. "She's holding back," he assured the older man. "You should see her full throttle," he added, a hint of admiration creeping into his voice.

With a silent, critical nod, Vince inclined his head toward a shorter man on his left, and then rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Mark?" When he received a mumble in response, he cleared his throat. "Can you get her to go full throttle?"

Nodding without question, Mark stepped toward the ring, climbing the steps carefully. "Hey, Maria," he called out as the women on the mat stopped moving. "They need you in wardrobe," he nodded over his shoulder. When she ran off, he smiled warmly at Cameron. "You ready to go?"

Cameron pushed her sweaty hair from her face. Looking toward the ropes, she gasped for breath and nodded. "Sure. Where we goin' now?" she asked.

But Mark just laughed, holding one long arm out to hinder her forward motion. "I meant to go," he nodded toward their feet. "Show 'em what you really got."

Glancing over his shoulder, Cameron's heart nearly jumped into her throat. Vince MacMahon was watching intently, as though expecting something far greater than she felt able to deliver. "Um, okay," she mumbled. "With you?" The chocolate pools of her eyes searched his for something assuring.

Mark licked his lips and reached out, grasping her forearm and propelling her into the ropes once more. Exploding without hesitation, Cameron lept from her place, applying a perfect Thesz Press as Mark stumbled backward and nearly lost his footing. Grabbing her shoulder and her ass, he cradled her to her chest and scoop-slammed her to the mat.

Cameron absorbed the blow and laid on the mat, cringing as she sold the bump. When Mark bent to pick her up again, she surprised him by raising her right leg and connecting with his bicep, impressing every man watching with her flexibility. "Last Ride," he whispered, lifting her to her feet.

Dread filled her chest as Cameron felt him grabbing the back the back of her jeans to lift her into the air_. How the fuck do I counter this shit? _she thought. Extending her leg again, she wrapped it around his neck. What had seemed like a decent chance at a hurricanrana seconds earlier, turned into a jumble of limbs as both got tangled and fell to the mat in a heap.

Moaning, Mark rolled to his side and slowly made his way to his feet, extending a hand to cringing woman beneath him. "What the hell was that?" he asked, laughing as she blushed wildly.

"I panicked," she admitted softly, squealing slightly when he smacked her ass and pointed to the stairs. Risking a glance at the base of the ramp, Cameron breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that Vince and Company had left them alone. "So be honest," she said, turning back to him and resting her back against the turnbuckle. "How bad did I fuck up the only chance I'll ever have to impress that man?"

"Oh, you fucked it up," Del agreed, shaking his head as an amused twinkle eminated from his blue eyes. "Fucked it up real good."

Cameron playfully kicked toward her trainer as Mark moved to the ropes and sat on the middle one, holding it down for her. When she hopped off of the apron, he shook his head. "You tried. It looked like hell, but you went for it." The forelorn look on her face tweaked something in Mark's belly, causing him to wrap an arm around her shoulder for a quick hug. "He appreciates fearless," he whispered.

The feeling of his breath on her neck sent shivers down Cameron's spine. She reasoned that it was just the warmth of his awe-inspiring presence that was affecting her, that it was still fan residue that she hadn't been able to shake. Had Ryan been holding her hand, she would have felt the exact same way.

Sensing her discomfort, Del nudged her arm from the other side. "You were good, Kid," he said.

The uncharacteristic compliment caused Cameron to blush wildly, but before she could respond, someone she didn't recognized called to Del from the tunnel of the arena floor. _Great_, she thought, staring at her feet as she walked next to Mark into the bustle of the backstage chaos.

In the month since she had met him, she was embarrassed to admit he had invaded her thoughts on more than a few occasions. And her fantasies. Never, in eight years of marriage, had she ever thought about another man while making love to her husband. Until Mark. It had been accidental at first, but seeing his image on the wall of Del's gym night after night, thinking about his voice on the telephone, left her imagining things she never dreamed she would be contemplating. And being alone with him felt more dangerous than she knew it should.

He had never made a pass, never given her any reason to believe he had any interest in her. He'd given her a few friendly hugs and smiles, but the closest they'd ever come to intimate contact was tumbling on top of each other in the ring a few minutes earlier. Shaking her head, she smiled to herself as he held the door open to the Kraft services area.

"What's the smile for?" Mark asked, watching the sway of her hips as she moved past him. She was a married woman, but he couldn't seem to convince himself that it meant anything. Mark was fairly certain he had never met a woman more oblivious to her beauty than Cameron Tucker, and he found her that much more alluring because of it.

Cameron shook her head and waited for him to direct her into the room. "Just thinkin' about how exciting this is."

After grabbing two bottles of water, Mark directed Cameron to a table and sat across from her, opening her bottle before sliding it to her. "Think about how exciting it'll be when you're an actual employee."

Rolling her eyes, Cameron drank from the bottle and leaned forward slightly. "Right. Because that's gonna happen."

"Why wouldn't it?"

With a huff, Cameron looked around the room, noting that they were alone. "I don't even wanna be on the big stage," she confessed. "I mean, yeah, it's exciting to be in that ring, but I'm a wrestler. I'm not a diva." Casting a glance over her own body, she smirked and shrugged her shoulders as she slumped back into her chair. "And I can't afford implants," she added.

Mark raised an eyebrow and looked her over. After seeing her in her leather skirt and tank top, he was convinced there was nothing wrong with her tight figure. "You don't need 'em," he assured her, fully aware that his eyes were focused on her chest.

Another blush crept up Cameron's neck as she followed his gaze. "Okay, so you're wrestling who tonight?" she asked, hoping to break the suffocating tension building between them.

"What are you working toward, Cameron?" Mark ignored her question and pressed on with his own line of thought. "Are you puttin' in all the hours training and performing because it's your dream? Or because you're avoiding your husband?"

Pushing her hair behind her ears, Cameron thought for a moment about what he had asked. Was it any of his business? Did it really matter to him one way or the other? "Mark, I don't know that," she started, wondering how open she could be with him. "I'm not sure that's any of your business."

He took her response in stride, leaning back in his chair and tilting it on it's hind legs. "I love this business, Cameron. And I get a charge out of seeing other people who love it getting all wrapped up in the magic." Shaking his head, he crossed his massive arms over his broad chest. "I just wanna know I'm not wasting my time with you."

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. He felt like he was wasting his time with her? "I didn't ask for your attention, Mark," she shot defensively. "I know that you're friends with Del, but I'm not really sure why you're showing any interest in me at all." Pushing her hair behind her ears, she lowered her voice as the door behind her opened. "Why does it matter what I want? There are a thousand other indie wrestlers in the world that you could be focusing on," she reminded him.

Nodding in agreement, Mark returned his chair to the floor and leaned toward her, a smirk playing on his lips. "True," he conceded. "But I don't wanna sleep with them."

Cameron's mind raced in twelve directions at once. Was he kidding? Was he implying that he wanted to sleep with her? That he found her as attractive as she found him? Did he realize she was married? Did he want something more than sex? Why did she even care? How would his confession change everything she had viewed as innocent fantasy? "Huh?" was all she managed to whisper as she stared hard at his weathered face.

As the room began to fill with members of the Raw staff and roster, Mark simply stood and pushed his chair away from the table. Nodding toward the door, he winked. "Come on. Let's go find Del."


	5. Chapter 5

**Make Me Believe**

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Sometimes she thought that she had the world pretty well figured out. Other times, Cameron had to shake her head and admit that she had no idea what in the world was going on around her. She thought that pursuing her dream as a wrestler would help things fall into place, but it wasn't turning out quite so smoothly. 

"You look like hell," a soft voice laughed from behind her as Cameron turned her head to see her co-worker, Shauna, offering a can of coke and a pixie stick.

They had run in different circles all through high school, but having worked together just as long gave them something to talk about. When Shauna lit a cigarette and threw her blonde hair over her shoulder, Cameron shook her head. "Shit's just weird," was all she offered as she popped the tab and took a long swig.

Shauna seemed to understand as she nodded and sucked a drag on her cigarette, holding the smoke before blowing it out in rings. "So where's your hottie husband been lately?"

Rolling her eyes, Cameron leaned back, resting her hands on the edge of the picnic table as she looked over the deserted back lot of the supermarket. "Working, mostly," she responded, turning her face toward the sun. "And when he's not, he's been really busy watching ESPN and pouting about my training schedule," she added with a shake of her head.

"Ah," Shauna responded over a gulp of her coke. "So what's up with you and Del?" she asked suddenly. "I heard you two were gettin' pretty friendly, ya know."

Cameron couldn't stop the laugh and exploded from her belly. "Me and Del? Come on," she exclaimed, sitting up and resting her arms on her knees. "Are you kidding? Shit," she giggled again. "That's fuckin' wrong," she insisted. "Just so wrong."

It had been nearly five months since her first match, and Cameron found herself gaining quite a reputation within her own territory. While it was difficult for women to gain a reputation in the indies, she was working hard and earning every bit of respect that she gained. Sometimes, she wondered if she deserved it. Sometimes, she wished that she didn't.

The silence between them was easy, both women lost in their own thoughts as they enjoyed a few minutes off of their feet. "So what's the deal with this wrestling thing? It gonna be the real deal or what?"

If she hadn't been asking herself the same question for the last week, Cameron might have been caught off guard. "I got an offer," she admitted. "With DSW." Noting the blank look on Shauna's face, Cameron took another swig of her drink and stared hard at her tennis shoes. "Deep South Wrestling," she clarified. "It's one of WWE's developmental territories. Basically, I sign a WWE contract, but I have to keep training in McDonough until they think I'm ready. If they ever think I'm ready," she explained as simply as she could.

Shauna nodded again and then scrunched her nose. "Where's McDonough? Near Houston?" she asked.

Chuckling, Cameron shook her head. "It's in Georgia."

The shocked look on Shauna's face would have normally caused Cameron to laugh. If only it hadn't been the same look Ryan had given her when she broke the news. The biggest news of her life. One step closer to the dream she had never allowed herself to fully dream. The one that he had crushed with the shake of his head and a cold, cynical laugh.

"Bet Ryan loved that," Shauna stated simply, as though reading Cameron's mind. When her co-worker's dark eyes clouded, Shauna tossed her cigarette to the ground and checked her watch. "So is there a downside to this decision?" When Cameron gave her withering look and wiggled her left ring finger, Shauna rolled her eyes. "Besides that?"

Cameron nodded and drained the rest of her drink, tearing the end off her pixie stick. "There's only four women on the roster," she said. "But Tom Prichard is the head trainer," she added, tilting her head back and pouring the flavored sugar down her throat. With an exaggerated gulp, she let the sour flavor burn in her throat before speaking again. "I love Del, but Prichard is one of the best," she informed when Shauna looked a little confused again.

Jumping from the table and running her hands over the back of her jeans, Shauna looked in the direction of an oncoming truck. "Well, it can't hurt to try, right?"

"Guess not," Cameron answered, knowing full-well it could hurt everything she had come to rely on as stable in her life. "Del set up a meeting with the trainer and the owner next weekend, so I guess we're flyin' out on Friday and comin' back on Monday."

Gravel and dust flew as the truck screeched to a halt before the two women. "That's my cue," Shauna excused herself as Ryan leaned out the open window of the vehicle, shooting his wife a charming smile.

Standing from the table, Cameron approached her husband with a critical look. "Aren't you supposed to be workin'?" she asked easily, accepting the kiss that he offered before waving at his younger brother, staring at the couple intently from the passenger's seat. "Hey, Chase," she greeted.

The eighteen-year-old blushed and rushed a greeting before returning his gaze to the cell phone in his hands. Ryan just rolled his eyes and leaned on his elbow in the window. "Spot me a twenty for lunch?" he asked his wife, pouting his full lips in the charming way that always made her heart flutter.

Digging into her pocket, Cameron counted the bills that she withdrew. "I got fourteen," she answered. "And I need gas on the way home," she told him, nervously biting her lip. "Ya know what," she shook her head before he could whine. "I'll just use the card for gas."

Ryan took the bills she offered and then fished his wallet out of his back pocket. Flicking a credit card toward her, he flinched slightly at the raised eyebrow that met his offering. "We're over the limit on the gas card," he informed her. "I kinda figured insurance on your midget machine was more important." When Cameron sighed, he held up a finger. "Don't bitch at me," he warned. "If you'd let me use some of your wrestling money, we could pay our bills on time."

It was true, and Cameron couldn't argue with him. She had acquired nearly five hundred dollars from various bookings over the last three months, but she refused to share the majority of it with her husband. Motels and gas costs for her weekend shows had to be paid somehow, and she figured that she was better served footing the bills herself, rather than asking her husband for a hand out.

Of course, that didn't stop him from reminding her about it every time they come up short on other bills. "If you'd come to some of my shows, I might share," she shot back, knowing that he was just trying to get a rise, and hating herself for giving him one.

"Well, one of us has to work," he countered, the tone in his voice growing more edgy by the second.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Cameron huffed. "Whatever," she responded, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder. "I need to give Del an answer about the tickets by tonight," she reminded. At the moment, he was the only thing holding her back from the contract of her dreams. She needed him to accompany her to Georgia.

Whether it was the heat of the summer sun, or his anger rising, Ryan's neck began to redden at his wife's words. "You know I can't go, Cami," he said firmly. "I have to transport three hundred head next weekend," he reminded.

"But if we're gonna consider moving. . ."

Ryan held up a hand. "We'll talk about this at home," he chided, casting a sideways glance at his brother.

If there was one thing she hated more than anything, it was being talked down to. "Or you could get your ass out here and talk to me about it now," she challenged.

Jumping out of the car, Ryan slammed the door of the truck and stepped close to his wife. "What do you want me to say? Either way, I look like an ass," he shot. "I tell you we're not goin' and I'm the unsupportive husband. I tell you we're goin' and I'm a pussy-whipped motherfucker. I can't fucking win, Cameron."

"Yes, you can," she insisted. "This is not about what your friends think. This is about us. Can you please just think of us for once?"

Ryan kicked the leg of the picnic table, raking his fingers through his thick locks and holding them back from his face. "I'M not thinking about us? Me? You're the one running around with your head so far up your ass you can't see that this pipe dream of yours is tearing us apart!" With his hands on his hips, he exhaled a loud sigh. "Why don't YOU try thinking about us for once, instead of your own bull shit?"

Cameron was about to retort when the loud roar of an engine interrupted her train of thought. Casting her eyes to the side, she felt the butterflies in her stomach roaring to life. "Ya know what?" she asked with a smirk, walking toward the bike. "Just go get your lunch."

"Don't you dare walk away from me," Ryan ordered, charging toward the bike. When the driver lifted his helmet from his head and rested it against his hip, the younger man took a step backward. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

With a smug grin, Mark nodded toward the back of the bike and waited for Cameron to get on. "I'm taking your wife for a ride," he answered easily, taking great joy in the anger that descended on Ryan's features. "You better get back to work, son," he advised. "I know y'all have bills to pay."

"Cameron Joy Tucker," Ryan spat through clenched teeth. His wife simply wrapped her arms around the man in front of her and turned her head away from her husband in defiance. "Look, man," he addressed the man he had once watched on television every week. "I respect you as an athlete, but I think it's time you leave my wife the fuck alone," he warned.

Mark simply tilted his head toward the young man and gunned the engine of his bike. "It was good to see ya 'gain, Ryan," he responded, peeling out of the lot with Cameron clinging to his broad body as they left her husband to pout in their dust.


	6. Chapter 6

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Alright, so I got on a roll yesterday and pounded out the next few chapters of this story. Maybe I'll get a chance to work on some more today. Suffice it to say that you should be receiving updates frequently this week. Enjoy!

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Though it was a classic, white-trash cliche, Cameron had never been embarrassed about living in a trailer. The home belonged to her father-in-law, and it had served as a fairly decent living space for the young couple since they had returned from her honeymoon in Austin. It wasn't the lap of luxury, but they had a roof over their heads, and a place to shower, so she really couldn't complain.

Why she had chosen to bring Mark home with her, she had no idea. There were plenty of diners and coffee shops they could have visited. She could have directed him to Dallas, away from the prying eyes of the townspeople. But in her current state of agitation, she just wanted to be home.

"You gonna stop pacing at some point?" Mark finally asked, smiling as he reclined in one of the deck chairs positioned next to the house.

Cameron let out a frustrated sigh and kicked the dirt under her feet, causing a miniature dust storm around her ankles. "I'm so fucking sick of this bull shit!" Shaking her head, she stopped and looked at her friend. "Some days, I just wanna punch him in the face."

Raising one eyebrow, Mark conceded and took another sip of his beer. "Yeah," he agreed. "I was kinda gettin' the same feelin' back there."

Finally stopping to watch him, Cameron thought about how silly he looked. His seven foot frame was crammed into one of their deck chairs, legs propped up, ankles crossed. He wore dark sunglasses over his green eyes, with a tattered, woven cowboy hat pulled low over to his face to protect his fair skin from the summer rays. Nursing the beer bottle she had given him, Mark hadn't said much since arriving at the house, only reclined in his spot, drinking and watching her every move.

With another heavy sigh, she dropped lazily into the chair beside him, grabbing her own beverage from the small, plastic table between them. "He's just such a dick sometimes, ya know?"

"So why do you stick around?" Mark asked pointedly. When she tossed him a questioning glance, he swallowed his beer and motioned toward the house. "If he pisses you off so bad, why do you put up with it? Why not just leave?"

Though she knew she complained about her husband, sometimes ad nauseum, she had never considered leaving him. She had considered Ryan versus her career for nearly six months, but it had never even occured to her that choosing her career would mean leaving him behind. He was her husband. For better or for worse.

Rolling her head to the side, she squinted against the sun as she responded. "Because it's not always like that," she defended her position. But even as she spoke the words, she knew that it was becoming more of a lie with each passing day. "It didn't used to be anyway," she mumbled.

Mark looked at the woman beside him. She was only twenty-six, he knew, and considered almost over-the-hill in the wrestling world. At least for a beginner. But for a married woman, she was far too young, in his opinion, to be grieving over a miserable marriage. "How long you guys been together?" he asked, though he wasn't entirely convinced that he cared.

"Twelve years," she answered without hesitation. "Married for 8 of 'em. Almost." When his mouth gaped, she nodded. "I know, right? I married the only guy I've ever dated, kissed, or slept with. No wonder we're having issues, huh?"

His first instinct was to agree, but Mark just swallowed another long swig of his beer and shook his head. "Why'd you get married?" was all he could manage to ask in light of the revelation.

Cameron thought about how to answer his question. Why had she married Ryan? Because she was young and idealistic. Because it's what everyone around her did when they graduated from high school. Because it was the easy thing to do. "I love him," she finally said, shrugging her shoulders and tipping her bottle once again, staring at her feet on the lounger. "I couldn't imagine being anything other than his wife," she added. At the time, when she was eighteen and believing in happily-ever-after, it had never been more true.

"Why'd you start training?" Mark asked, his thoughts seeming slightly disconnected, even in his own head.

"I grew up wondering if I could do it," she answered quickly, smiling at the memories of watching Monday Night Raw with her dad and her brothers. Not only had that weekly ritual forged an unbreakable bond between her brothers and herself, it had also fueled a fire for something other than boys and telephone conversations. "I thought I could, but I had to know for sure."

Mark nodded, processing the pieces of information she had just given him. "So what are you gonna do with the knowledge?" he asked, noting the adorable way that her nose scrunched when she didn't understand his meaning. "You know you can do it now," he explained. "But is that enough?"

Shaking her head slowly, Cameron allowed her shoulders to shrug slowly. "I feel like it should be," she answered honestly, baring her soul to the man at her side. Though they'd shared only a few phone conversations, and a few drinks with Del in the course of their pseudo-relationship, she felt she could trust him. What would he stand to gain in betraying her confidence anyway? "Part of the reason Ryan even agreed to let me have the money to enroll in the training school was because he thought I would get bored, or that I just wouldn't be good enough. And I knew that. I knew that he wasn't expecting it to become what it is now," she said, unexpected tears pricking the backs of her eyes.

The thought of her husband believing his wife wasn't good enough for the big time made Mark more angry than he wanted to admit. He was well-aware that her marriage was none of his business, but somewhere along the course of knowing her, he felt like Cameron Tucker had become his business. Protecting her, encouraging her, and making sure that she realized her full potential was his business now. Whether her husband liked it or not.

"But you keep expecting him to come around?" he asked, knowing the emotions she was dealing with all too well.

She was staring at her hands, fighting like hell to keep her composure. She would not cry in front of him. She couldn't. "To be fair," she sniffled, blinking furiously as she turned her face toward the heat of the daytime sky, "I'm asking him to uproot his entire life for my dream."

Setting his empty beer bottle on the table between them, he moved his heavy boots to the ground, straddling the chaise on which he was seated. "Would you do it for him?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "If Ryan's dream was to buy a shrimp boat and move to Maine, would you support him?"

Cameron couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up at the absurdity of his question. "I would," she answered hastily, but then bit her lip as she considered the sincerity of her response. "I would have before I started training," she confessed. In an attempt to change the course of the conversation, to shift some of the focus off of herself, she licked her lips and cleared her throat. "Is it worth it? This whole crazy wrestling thing? Is it worth sacrificing everything I know?"

Mark rolled his shoulders. He could tell her the truth, but he wasn't sure she was ready to hear it. And he wasn't entirely convinced that he was ready to share that much of himself. But the wide, brown eyes that stared back at him when he met Cameron's gaze struck any thoughts of being guarded from his mind. She was open to him, looking to him for answers that nobody else could really give her. And he suddenly wanted to be the guy she could lean on.

"It was for me," he admitted slowly, looking away to focus on the skirt around the trailer. "I gave up on ten years of marriage for this crazy wrestling thing," he went on. "Worked too hard for too many years to watch it slip away. 'Specially to be with someone who could ask me to give it all up."

Taking in what he had just shared, Cameron expelled a long breath and returned her gaze to the ground underneath her chair. "Wow," was all she could manage to say. Ten years. It wasn't that far off from her situation, really.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mark fought to reconstruct the wall he had been building around his personal life for as long as he could remember. He didn't let people in, be they colleagues or friends. "But that's me," he said quickly, scooting forward on his chair. "That has nothing to do with your decision, Cameron." She just nodded, so Mark stood from his spot and smoothed his hands over his jeans. "Go to your meeting next weekend. Feel it out. Do what's best for you."

Cameron just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to shield herself from him and the rest of the world. "Yeah," she agreed numbly. Thoughts were assaulting her from a million different directions, and she wasn't sure which ones to entertain and which ones to duck.

"Come here," Mark instructed, opening his arms and inviting her into his embrace. When Cameron did as she had been told, resting her cheek against his warm chest, he held her loosely, his fists resting comfortably on the sensual curve of her ass. "You've got tons of potential, Sweetheart. And you're sexy as hell," he added, smiling when she pulled back and smacked his arm softly. When she gazed up into his eyes, he released his hold and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "The only thing holding you back right now, Cameron," he said, bending to rest his forehead against hers, "is you."

Her skin tingled at his touch, her heart racing at the intimate interaction they had just shared. It was too much. He was getting too close. She had to stop it before she went too far, before she did something she couldn't take back. "Will you come with me? For my meeting?" _Yeah, way to distance yourself, ya dumb bitch_, she scolded herself inwardly while biting her lip and staring up at him with her best coy expression.

Sighing deeply, Mark tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and took a step back. "I don't know," he hesitated. "What would people think?"

She knew he didn't give a damn what people thought of him, but the thought that he might be concerned about her reputation warmed Cameron's belly to a dangerous degree. "You're right," she nodded emphatically, as if trying to convince herself.

The swift bobbing of her head elicited a deep, gutteral laugh from the man who enjoyed nothing more than watching someone squirm as a result of his teasing. "Oh, who the hell am I kidding," he responded, snaking his arm around her waist once more, pulling her taut body flush against his. "I'll be there."


	7. Chapter 7

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Thanks for the support, guys! I don't know if you each realize how heavy your words are, how much they impact my desire to continue telling a story that you can all enjoy. Enjoy!

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Cameron's chest was heaving as she shouldered her bag and limped toward the entrance of the dirty training facility in McDonough, Georgia. She thought Del was a tough trainer, but he had been a teddy bear compared to the guys she'd met in the Deep South. Her body was sore and strained, but Cameron could honestly say she had never felt better. She had received encouragement from guys who really knew how to spot talent, and she was eating it up with a spoon.

"Your face is all red."

Turning, Cameron rolled her eyes and allowed Mark to take the heavy bag from her arm. "You're tall," she stated, smiling warmly when he shot her a look of confusion. "I'm sorry. I thought we were stating the obvious."

Mark playfully swatted Cameron's backside as they reached his car. "Smart ass," he chuckled as he slammed the door behind her.

As she had prepared for the most important trip of her life, she had spent more time in the gym, and less time at home with Ryan. Every waking moment they spent together seemed to lead to another fight, so she was bound and determined to avoid him at all costs. Especially since the day she had ridden out of their arguement at the supermarket on the back of Mark's bike. If her goal had been to save her marriage, hopping on that motorcycle had been a major tactical error.

But no matter how many times she told herself to apologize to Ryan for the disrespectful action, the words wouldn't come out. Rehashing the same argument time and time again had grown tiresome, and she just wanted a brief reprieve. The casual conversations and meals she had shared with Mark over the past twenty-four hours were just the thing she had needed to help her focus on the job at hand and forget about the stress at home.

When they reached the motel, Mark took her bag from the backseat and slung it over his shoulder, leading the way toward their adjoining rooms. "Go ahead and grab a shower. We'll watch a movie when you're done," he offered as she slid her card into the lock.

Nodding, Cameron entered her darkened room and tossed her bag onto the bed. Though her body was tense and screaming for a long bath, the thought of spending just a little more time laughing with Mark overruled her sense of reason. She had to be at the training facility by seven the following morning for her second work out, and then Del was arriving for their meeting at noon. It would be her longest day of the trip, but she couldn't bring herself to think of sleep.

After a quick shower, she threw her wet locks into a ponytail and dressed in a thin tank top and a pair fitted sweatpants. It was far from seductive, but who was she trying to impress? Mark was her friend - nothing more. And if she reminded herself enough, maybe she would start to believe it.

Rapping her knuckles against the adjoining door, she glanced over her shoulder and grabbed a bottle of water from the dresser. When she heard him exclaim that it was open, she let herself into his room and shivered against the air conditioned chill.

"Damn," she laughed, casting a glance around the room. "What are you doin' in here? Storing meat?" she asked when she located him near the bathroom mirror, pulling his long hair into a wet ponytail. "How are you not freezing your nipples off?"

Mark just laughed and walked toward her slowly, his gaze drifting to her chest subconsciously. One of them was certainly feeling cold, and it wasn't him. Thanking his lucky stars that she had opted not to wear a bra under her dark tank, he slid onto the mattress behind her and placed heavy hands on her shoulders.

Cameron scooted back into his hands as he began a slow, relaxing massage, her legs outstretched while her feet dangled over the edge of the bed. There was something about the skilled way in which his calloused fingers eased the knots from her muscles that warmed Cameron instantly in the coolness of the room. "Mm," she moaned in response as one hand moved from her shoulders to her spine.

The sounds she was emitting were making Mark harder by the minute. She whimpered when he leaned back, clenching and unclenching his fists briefly, causing him to smile in satisfaction. Regaurdless of what Cameron had waiting for her at home, he was fairly convinced that she was only thinking of the man sitting behind her in that moment. And that was a concept he liked just fine.

When she felt the heels of his masculine hands midway down her back, pressing up on either side of her spine as he slowly approached her shoulder blades before repeating the path in reverse, Cameron groaned deeply. "Fuck," she sighed, her head dropping to her chest as she closed her eyes and allowed the relaxing sensation to spread through her body.

The sounds of an NCAA basketball on the television filled the room, but Mark had no interest in the game. Moving lower than he had dared to go before, he carefully worked her muscles while lifting the hem of her shirt. He wondered for a moment if the tiny chill bumps at the base of her spine were because of the room temperature, or if they were the effect of his hands on her.

"What are you doing?" Cameron asked lazily as Mark's hands found their way further under her shirt. What had started as a friendly massage was suddenly feeling less-than-platonic as he uncovered more of her naked skin.

Mark cleared his throat and cast a glance to the television, just in case she decided to look back at him. "Giving you a massage," he answered, his voice oblivious to the reaction he was eliciting in his subject.

His touch grew less insistent, the pressure easing as his fingertips smoothed lightly over her exposed skin. When his index finger dipped into the waistband of her sweats, Cameron jumped slightly. "Hey," she exclaimed, blushing wildly at the contact. "Okay," she breathed, trying to calm the pounding in her chest as the feeling echoed on the surface of her tailbone.

"Something wrong?" he asked gently, his breath fanning over Cameron's neck.

There was no way to fight the blush creeping up her neck as he continued to touch her. "I'm fine," she lied.

As Mark continued his massage, he wondered if Cameron noticed that his touch was no longer therapuetic. Instead, he was merely feeling as much of her smooth torso as she would allow, the pads of his fingers crawling over her shoulders and biceps before sliding down her sides, brushing against the sides of her breasts.

"Okay!" Cameron exclaimed, jumping from the bed and pulling her tank top down over her flat belly emphatically. "Ya know what?" she laughed nervously. "I am feeling really relaxed! Totally, definitely, completely relaxed," she added for effect.

Crossing his arms, Mark bit his lip in amusement as he nodded at the look of determination on her face. "Really?" She nodded and backed toward the door, her eyes wide as though he had just pulled a gun on her. "You're not tense? At all?"

"Uh uh," she mumbled, twirling her fingers through the ponytail now hanging over her shoulder.

Standing from the bed and openly smirking, Mark walked toward her, taking her hair in his own thick fingers. "You seem a little tense, Sweetheart," he whispered.

With both hands on his chest, she pushed him back, a flood of emotions crashing over her. "Of course I'm tense. Are you kidding me?" Laughing sardonically, she rested one hand on the top of her head and the other on her hip as she stepped away from the bed and began to pace. "I have been twisted and contorted in ways my body didn't know it could bend. I was pushed to the breaking point, and now you've got your hands all over me! I mean, how the hell am I supposed to relax?

"One minute, you're showing me how to execute Old School, and we're best buddies and all," she flailed an arm as she spoke, her gaze focused on the floor. "The next minute, you're telling me that you wanna sleep with me and you're touching me! And knowing you," she said sharply, her eyes full of accusations when she met his stare, "it's all been some fucked up head game. You probably never meant it in the first place, did you?" she asked.

Mark crossed his arms over his massive chest as she continued to pace, mumbling something to herself that he couldn't clearly understand. Though he knew he should be listening to what she was saying, he found himself more taken with the way her ass moved beneath the thin barrier of her worn sweats. His focus was drawn to the impression her taut nipples made against the form-fitting top she had chosen, and the way her cleavage rose and fell when she was angry.

"Of course," Cameron went on, hands on her hips as she shook her head and licked her lips, "the idea's all up in my head now and everything's all fucked up. I'm supposed to be madly in love with my husband, but I can't even remember his name when you're around. I've only got about a million life-changing decisions to make only I can't," she spat, freezing her in place and pointing a finger in his direction. "I can't because all I can think about right now is your hands on my body!"

Without a word, Mark crossed the chasm between them in three steps and snaked an arm around Cameron's waist. His left hand secured the back of her head as he pulled her body flush against his, crushing her lips in a branding kiss. He was a man of few words, but he wasn't playing head games. And he intended to make sure that she knew it.

Cameron whimpered, her body falling limp against him. He alternated between darting his expert tongue into her mouth and nibbling softly on her bottom lip. It was the most sensual, delicious kiss she had ever received. _Of course, I've only kissed one person, so what's to compare it to?_

Before Mark could lift her into his arms, Cameron pulled away suddenly. Her brown eyes filled with tears as she shook her head and took a step out of his embrace. Shaking her head, she sniffled, her words barely above a whisper. "I can't." She practically sprinted the few feet to their adjoining door, throwing it open and casting another glance over her shoulder. "I'm sorry."


	8. Chapter 8

**Make Me Believe**

**Warning: This chapter contains strong sexual content.

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**

Mark stood in the middle of the floor, staring at the place Cameron had just been. Electrical surges races through every nerve ending as he tapped his lips and thought about the interaction they'd just had. She had been just seconds away from surrender, beginning to return his kiss. And then, as if Ryan had popped up behind him, she was gone.

_What the hell do I have to do?_ he wondered, shaking his head. Falling for her had never been his intention. When Del had asked him to meet his friend Cameron, Mark had never expected the path their friendship had taken. She was the one who acted like a star-struck fan, but he had been the one left breathless.

In the proceeding months, through all of the challenges that had come her way, he had never seen her lose her spark for the business, for the life that she was growing to love more by the day. He had watched her from the corner of the old gym, seeing the DSW trainers throw more at her than Del had ever dreamed. And he had admired the way that she attempted everything, even when she couldn't execute it perfectly. She never stopped, never quit. She was a hell of a woman.

_And she's on the phone right now, telling her husband how much she loves him. Good move, jackass_, he scolded himself, moving to the bathroom counter to brush his teeth for the night.

Maybe it was for the best. He had no business falling for a married woman in the first place. Hell, he had no business falling for anyone. Nothing had changed in the five years since his own marriage had ended. He was still the same guy, focused on his career and unwilling to compromise it. What did he really have to offer someone with her entire life ahead of her?

Splashing handfuls of water over his face, Mark studied his reflection in the mirror. He had better things to do than get caught up in someone who wasn't interested in reciprocating his affections. Dragging the hand towel over his face, he released his hair from it's ponytail and blinked his eyes. He could get over her. Especially since he'd never really been given the chance to get under her.

Nearly ten minutes after she had left him alone, Mark was tearing his tee shirt over his head and turning down the covers for the night. If he could shake her rejection long enough to get some sleep, maybe he'd be alright after all.

The woosh of the adjoining door startled him. Snapping his attention to her, Mark saw Cameron studying him closely. She wore only white, ruffled panties and a sheer bra. The expression on her face was anything but chaste. "What are you?" he started.

Shaking her head, she ripped her ponytail out and shook her dark locks around her shoulders. "You want me?" Pushing off of the door frame, she rested her hands on her hips and dared him to approach. "This is it. One night. Come get me."

Without a second offer, Mark moved to her, lifting her onto his waist with one arm. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, her bare feet bouncing against his denim-clad ass as he backed toward the bed. With his fingers digging into the rounded flesh of her backside, he tore his mouth from hers and stared over her bra-covered breasts. "What the hell'd you put a bra on for?" he asked in confusion.

Cameron shrugged, blushing wildly. "It seemed sexy," she defended in a whisper, her words cut short as he pulled the straps back and pressed his lips to her skin. Burying her fingers deep into his black locks, she moaned as she chewed on the insides of her lips, willing herself to think only of him.

She wanted this. Deciding that she would never be able to get him out of her system if she didn't have some kind of closure, she had dressed in the sexiest underwear she had packed and decided to throw caution to the wind. It had the ability to fuck everything up, but she had to know. She had to know if her fantasies lived up to the reality she was rejecting.

When he had unhooked her bra and thrown it to the floor, Mark growled hungrily. He had once told her that she didn't need implants. Holding one perky orb in each hand, he knew that he had been right. Forcing her breasts together, he lowered his face to flick his tongue over her heated flesh, feasting on as much of them as he could at the same time.

Cameron threw her head back, trying to force him closer, encouraging him to devour her as the heat began to pool between her thighs. Grinding her hips further into his, she could feel the response of her actions against the ruffled fabric of her thin panties. "Mark," she whimpered as he continued sucking at her heaving chest.

Mark was slightly surprised when she pushed him away, climbing off of his lip slowly. _If she's runnin' off again_, he thought in frustration. But his inner grumblings were cut short as she hooked her finger and motioned for him to stand. When she popped the button on his jeans, he laughed. He had been so caught up in the thought of taking her before she changed her mind that he had forgotten to take a minute and enjoy the one thing he'd been thinking about for months.

Watching in surprise, Cameron couldn't drag her eyes away from Mark's naked body as he sat back on the bed and waited for her to join him again. His eyes were full focused on her body as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and began to slide them down her hips at a painstaking rate. She'd never undressed for anyone other than Ryan, and she found the prospect daunting, but exhilerating. Would he be impressed? Would he change his mind after seeing her exposed?

Mark was a man of many traits, but patience had never been one of them. Reaching for her, he dipped his index finger into the front of her panties, forcing them down her legs. The gasp that escaped her full lips made him chuckle again as he lunged forward and scooped her up into his arms. When he was positioned on the bed, Cameron buried her knees into the mattress on either side of his massive thighs.

It was as if he couldn't get enough of her firm, supple breasts. Returning to the hardened nipples within tongue's reach, he was surprised to feel Cameron grip his shaft and ease it into her hot opening. A groan sounded from deep in her belly as she took an inch at time, as though trying to ease into the sensation of their union.

But Mark wasn't interested in easing into anything. There would be time for slow and easy later. Thrusting his hips forward, he heard her scream as he buried himself deeply into her tight confines. After what felt like an eternity, wondering if she was going to jump out of his lap and slap him in the face, Cameron threw her head back and gripped his shoulders for balance.

They both knew that he wasn't her only. _But he's the only one who feels like this_, Cameron thought, as she began to rotate her hips, riding him at a steady pace.

Satisfied moans and desparate groans were muffled as the couple feasted on each other's tongues. Cameron wanted to believe that she was in control, but the way Mark's teeth pulled at her bottom lip forced her speed to increase, showing that he had her exactly where he wanted her. She realized that she had no interest in arguing.

Dragging his mouth from hers, Mark pushed the hair from Cameron's neck. He ran his tongue over her earlobe and down to her collarbone, as if to capture the sweat forming there. Another pass, from her shoulders back to her ear, ended when he took the soft flesh of her lobe between his teeth, tugging on it gently. The soft grunt that he emitted only drove her hips into further motion.

He repeated the action on the other side of her body, until Cameron grasped his face between her hands, holding him still as she delivered heated kisses to his swollen lips. Later, when she was back in Texas, she would convince herself that she didn't need him. But for the moment, with him buried deep between her thighs, she wondered how she had ever lived without him.

Mark groaned against Cameron's skin, his hand coming down with authority against her ass. "Come on, Sweetheart," he encouraged, raising his hips to meet her as she rode him at an increasing gallop. "Gimme more."

His hushed words teased Cameron's climax from somewhere on the outskirts of pleasure. He continued urging her on, feeling the impact of his words as she began to meet his furious strokes. Needing to distance herself from his breath before she exploded, she leaned back again, shaking her hair as his tongue snaked out against hollow of her throat. "Oh shit," Cameron whimpered.

Sensing that her end was near, and knowing that his could be, Mark cupped the back of her head and drove her face to his shoulder once again. "Fuck, Cameron," he growled, grasping her shoulder between his teeth.

As though tired of their little game of hide-and-seek, Cameron's orgasm slammed through every nerve ending in her body. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she rode the waves of ecstasy pressed tightly against the hard planes of his chest. She clung to him as he continued his frenzied thrusts, not only out of desire, but for fear of falling away from his body.

Mark roared as his orgasm ripped through his body, shattering like shards of glass before slamming him to the bed. When Cameron collapsed against him, he wrapped his arms around her and fought to catch his breath. Their chests heaved against one another, legs shaking as they fought for control of their own bodies.

When Cameron could breathe steadily, she began to roll from the bed. Mark tightened his grip and shook his head, lazily opening one eye to see her chewing furiously at her bottom lip. "You said I got you for one night," he reminded. "That wasn't even an hour."

"I have an important work out tomorrow," she pointed out, trying once again to sit. "I need to sleep."

Mark nodded, pulling her close to his side. "I know," he assured her. "Stay," he added, his tone carrying just a hint of a command. "Sleep."


	9. Chapter 9

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: I just wanna give a quick shout out to bkerbunny for being my awesome beta on this story. Were it not for her, this chapter would be about a page and a half. I also wanted to take a quick minute to encourage you all to head over to her page and check out her Taker stories - hers are the stories I read when seeking inspiration on writing this hulk of a man in the first place. And if you have a myspace page, check hers out - there's some awesome graphics, and soon, there will be a phenomenal story that will turn your every thought of the average "love story" on its ear.**

**And now I'm done whoring for my friend. Enjoy the chapter and thanks for your enduring support. It's amazing.**

**Warning: This chapter contains strong sexual content. (You knew that whole "one night" thing wasn't gonna happen, right?)

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**

With a moan and an exaggerated stretch, Cameron arched her back from the bed and licked her tongue over her sleep-dried lips. The tingling in her belly was a foreign concept first thing in the morning. Struggling to sit, she found herself abruptly awakened by the sight that greeted her.

Mark's arms were wrapped around her thighs, holding her legs apart as he licked gently at her warm folds. Before Cameron could protest, he increased his speed, flicking furiously at her swollen bud until her legs began to shake. When she tossed her head back against the pillows, he smiled. "Morning," he grumbled before returning to his breakfast, his eyes tilted to watch her body writhe.

For a moment, Cameron wondered if she were the only woman in the world who had never felt a man's tongue pressed against her sensitive groin. While Ryan was a huge fan of her oral attention, he wasn't much for returning the favor. In fact, after a decade of sexual activity, this was her first "eating out."

She needed to stop him. It felt too good. One night. That had been the agreement. He couldn't keep lavishing attention on her body like he had for the past eight hours. "Mark," she gasped, gripping the pillows beside her head until her knuckles turned white. "Don't," she breathed, though the tone of her voice was as less than convincing.

Smirking against her heat, Mark paused for a moment, resuming his actions when her fingers found the back of his hair. He pulled back just enough to move his lips. "You mean it?" he whispered.

The whisper of his breath against her opening caused Cameron to groan again. Though she knew that she should stop him, she could feel her release approaching, and she was afraid she might implode if he didn't finish. "Don't stop," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Mark was nothing if not obedient. At least to the demands of a beautiful woman in heat. Extending his long tongue, he laved at her slit before returning a fury of attention to her nub. Her thighs began to constrict and he used his strong hands to pry them further apart, allowing himself unlimited access to her most intimate places. When she orgasmed, shoving his head away, he delivered small kisses to the inside of her thigh before running a hand over his beard and flopping onto the pillows beside her.

Cameron fought to catch her breath as Mark pulled her against his chest. When the tremors had subsided, she pushed away, covering herself quickly with the sheets. "I said one time," she reminded, smiling in spite of herself when he shrugged, unabashedly lounging naked beside her.

"You said one night," he corrected.

Shovelling her dark hair from her face, Cameron rolled her eyes at him, making no move to stand. She wasn't sure she could have if she tried. "Well, I thought that meant one time," she defended.

The rumbling laughter that escaped his chest echoed through the room as Mark raised a massive hand to scratch his stomach. "You're a 'one and done' girl, aren'tcha? You really didn't know how many orgasms you could have in one night."

"Apparently," Cameron moaned as she tried to wiggle her toes, "four is a pretty accurate number."

With one hand trailing slowly over her toned thigh, Mark licked his lips and lazily turned his head from side to side. "I was just gettin' warmed up, baby," he teased, his fingers dancing closer to her core once again. "You really are an innocent girl, aren't ya?" When she blushed, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Ain't nothin' wrong with it, ya know? It's a noble choice."

Closing her eyes, she revelled in the feeling of his warm mouth on her neck. "Mark," she sighed, trying to pull away when he captured her ear between his teeth, an action that he seemed to enjoy more with each passing moment. "What are you doing?"

A deep growl vibrated against her skin as Mark turned her chin with his index finger, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. "What do you think?"

With all of her strength, Cameron pushed him slightly and backed away, looking a little like a wounded puppy. "I mean this. Us," she motioned from herself to him and back. "What is this? What do you want it to be?"

"Does it have to be anything?" Mark challenged, drawing slow circles on her knee cap, his eyes fixated on the way her tigh muscles jumped beneath her taut flesh. "Does it mean something if you give it a name?"

Cameron stared at him, unsure of what to say. In the darkness of the room, basking in the moonlit glow over their bodies, she had convinced herself that giving in to him was necessary. She truly believed that she had to give herself some closure, that sleeping with him was the way to find that. "I have a husband," she spoke, uncertain as to whether she was reminding him or herself. "I could have my dream career in a matter of hours," she added, casting her eyes to the bedside clock.

"Tell me how all of those things fit together," Mark challenged. "Because the way I see it, the career, the marriage, and this," he mimicked her gesture between them, "are all separate entities. You can't make a decision on any of them based on the others."

She knew the logic was fucked up. They all tied together, a big tangled mess of a situation. "I have to get ready," she mumbled, rolling to her side. "I wanna leave by six thirty," she informed him.

Standing with a nod, Mark waited until Cameron had reached the end of the bed before snaking an arm out and scooping her against his body. "Let's save some time," he suggested, moving toward the bathroom.

"Mark," she warned for what felt like the hundredth time since waking. He made no apologies for what had happened between them, and Cameron couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't going to back down just because she told him she wasn't interested. She would have to show him.

She just wasn't sure she could do that if he kept touching her.

---

"I'll be looking forward to hearing from you, Cameron," Dr. Tom Prichard said as he ushered Cameron and Del from the offices of the Deep South training facility.

After a grueling five-hour work out, Cameron had found herself exhausted as she eased herself into the chair beside Del for their meeting. Listening to what the men around her had to say, she could feel herself growing more and more excited at the prospect of joining the WWE family. All of the other challenges seemed to fade from her mind as she got caught up in the whirlwind.

Until Del had asked about relocation expenses. Why had he asked if the company would be willing to pay for Cameron and her husband to move from Tyler to McDonough? She understood that he was only trying to broker the best deal for his trainee, and she appreciated it. But it was the first time anyone in the room had spoken of Ryan, and she was trying her best to forget him. At least for the next twenty four hours.

When she was forced to leave Georgia, when she had no choice but to return to the life from which she had been hiding, then she would think about his part in this entire life-changing ordeal. But for now, she just wanted to focus on the job at hand, and on becoming the best wrestler she could possibly be.

"We'll be in touch, Tom," Del assured his old friend, shaking his hand as he slid a dark pair of sunglasses over his eyes and surveyed the old parking lot. Withdrawing his cell phone from the clip at his side, he made a call while Cameron said her good-byes.

Shaking the older man's hand firmly, Cameron smiled and then stepped into the hug he was offering. "Thank you so much for this opportunity," she managed to whisper, pleading with herself not to let the tears fall from her eyes. "It means the world to me."

With a nod, Dr. Prichard took a step back and rubbed her shoulder. "You've got a lot of talent, Kid. But you're only gonna make it if you want it."

Their conversation was interrupted by the roar of an engine. Cameron didn't even have to turn to know who had arrived. As Tom waved toward the driver and then retreated the building, Cameron closed her eyes and gathered her breath. She wasn't sure if she was more angry at Mark, or herself, for the fact that he had managed to make her climax two more times before leaving for her work out that morning.

She was there to work. This was important. She didn't need to add anymore drama to her life. And she didn't want to see a decent friendship ruined because they had given in to some sexual urges for one night. It was all bull shit as far as Cameron was concerned and if she didn't have to talk to Mark again before she left for Texas, she would be more than happy.

Making her way toward the truck, she caught the tail end of the conversation at Mark's window.

"So, I figure, since I'm in town," Del was saying as he noticed Cameron and motioned her closer to the truck, "I might as well try dinner with her and see where it goes from there." Nodding to the woman at his side, he asked his friend, "You think you can give Cameron a lift back to the hotel?"

She wanted to kick him in the shins and throw a temper tantrum. He had promised to show her his favorite Mexican restaurant in Atlanta, and then take her on a tour of the city. He had promised to spend the afternoon with her. He wasn't supposed to hand her over to Mr. Wandering Fingers.

"Sure," Mark agreed easily, reaching across the seat to pop the door of the rental open.

Turning to Del, Cameron put her hands on her hips. "What about my tour?" she pouted like a child.

Del just rolled his eyes and patted her on the head. "Mark's been here as many times as I have. I'm sure he'll show you a good time." And with that, he was gone.

_I'm sure he'll try_, Cameron though as she slid into the car and rested her elbow against the open window. "I'm hungry," she said, her tone curt and low.

Without so much as a word, Mark put the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot.

---

"Ya know, I made a decision on the plane out here," Cameron announced, chewing the final bit of her cornbread muffin and swallowing it in satisfaction, "that if they didn't have one great barbecue place in this town, I wasn't going to move." Wiping her hands on the paper towel in her lap, Cameron took her plastic fork and stabbed a massive chunk of saturated pork. "It's like, what's that thing called? Divine something or other."

Mark smiled as he swigged from his beer bottle, casting a sideways glance at the young woman beside him. She had all but devoured the barbecue he had ordered for dinner, and the way the sauce gathered in the corners of her mouth seemed like the cutest thing he had ever seen. "Providence," he filled in the blank she was searching for with a warm grin.

Snapping her fingers, Cameron smacked his shoulder, giggling a little bit when the sheet around her naked chest began to slip. "That's it!" she acknowledged, licking the sweet pork glaze from her thumb. "God, I love barbecue."

After wiping a wet nap over his mouth and beard, Mark tossed his take-out container to the floor of the hotel room, barely noticing when it landed amongst the afternoon's condom wrappers. Though he hadn't intended on sleeping with her again, the tension in the car had been more than he could bare. They had talked about their previous evening, or he had listened as she talked about how fucked up it was, and how they should both just forget it and move on. And before either realized what they were doing, clothing was strewn around the room and promises were broken once again.

She knew it was wrong. Cameron knew that the thought "It's already happened. . . a few more times doesn't make me any MORE unfaithful" was completely twisted. But somehow she managed to convince herself that the weekend in Georgia was her escape. It was her chance to live the life she might never again have the chance to experience. It was everything she hadn't been able to do in her twenty-six years on earth. She would deal with the consequences later.

Pulling her sheet away slowly, Mark smirked as inch by delicious inch of Cameron's alabaster skin was exposed to him. Goosebumps were left in the wake of his touch, causing him to dip his head and press his lips to her shoulder. "I'm glad you're enjoying your dinner," he whispered, noting the way her body shivered in response to him.

"Okay," she stated, dropping her fork and setting her styrofoam container on the bedside table. Yanking the sheet back over her chest, she twisted her body and crossed her arms defiantly. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but I am trying to enjoy my favorite food in the whole world," she informed. "I know that I am not so sexy that you can't keep your damn hands to yourself for thirty minutes."

Mark's lips curled, his eyes glimmering in amusement. Shaking his head, he took one of her hands in his and lifted it to his lips. Kissing the palm, he trailed his fingers over her forearm again. "You really have no idea, do you?"

"What?"

"I don't act like this, Cameron," he confessed, as though the words were hard to speak. "Nobody makes me lose control." Moving his lips to her wrist, he nipped at her pulse, sucking a little more when she stifled a groan. "Ya know what? You don't **make** me lose control," he said, as though the thought had just occured to him.

Cameron turned her head slowly, one eyebrow raising in question. "Ya know, you were so close to an actual romantic moment," she teased.

Shrugging, Mark pulled her arm until she fell against his chest. "I'm gettin' there," he defended as her laughter echoed through the room. "Jesus, woman," he laughed in response, placing his large hand over her mouth. "I actually had something real romantic to say, but you had to go open your mouth," he said, tickling her side until she squirmed into his lap.

With a shake of her dark hair, Cameron pulled back from Mark, straddling his legs with her fingers over his lips. "You realize that I know you're full of shit, right?" Slinging her hair over her shoulder, she scooted back, her ass bumping his knees as she leaned forward to rest her hands on his massive thighs. Looking at him through thick lashes, she blushed in spite of herself. "Is this sexy, Mark? The way I'm sitting right now? Is this appealing to you?"

He wanted to shake her until she realized that everything she did was appealing to him, but he feared that she still wouldn't get it. With his index finger, he pushed her hair back from her face and bit his lip to keep from voicing all of the thoughts in his mind. Nodding slowly, he studied her face as her mocha eyes rolled.

"I feel retarded," she admitted, rocking her body back until she was sitting upright again. Shaking her hair, she pulled it up and twisted it until it stayed loosely on the top of her head. "You've been with women who are totally comfortable doin' shit like that, right?" He nodded, his lips pursed as if he had no idea where her question was coming from, or where it was headed. "I don't get it," she sighed and shrugged.

"What's to get?" Mark asked, grabbing her arms and pulling her back into his chest.

Cameron fell against him with an exaggerated "oomph." Kicking her legs back, she laid against him, wondering for a moment why she was even talking to him about her insecurities. What did it matter? A few more hours, and she would never have to worry about what he thought of her bedroom skills anyway. But the compulsive need to know that he was enjoying their time together as much as she had took over.

"When Ryan and I watch porn together, I just can't imagine just knowing how to do half the shit those chicks are doin', ya know?" she began unburdening her soul. "It just makes me laugh."

Mark's hands moved up and down Cameron's bare back as he considered what she was telling him. "The confidence comes with experience," he spoke softly, evenly, into the stillness that had enveloped them. "You haven't had much," he acknowledged, chuckling slightly. "Luckily for you, I have some to spare."

Cameron struggled to sit again, smacking his bicep as she rolled off of his body. "Trust me, you've shared more than enough."

Licking his lips, Mark rose to his knees on the bed and grabbed Cameron's ankles. He lifted one of her legs into the air, and then the other. With a wink, he sucked one of her toes into his mouth and then released it as she gasped. "Oh, I've got plenty more to teach you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Make Me Believe**

"Whatcha listenin' to?"

Cameron turned her head lazily to the side, meeting Del's eye through heavy lids. They had been in the air for all of thirty minutes, and he hadn't stopped fidgeting at all. Her only salvation had been the flight attendant announcing that she was allowed to turn on her discman. There were too many things to think about, coupled with the fact that she was trying so hard not to cry that her head was hurting. "It's a mix," she answered flatly, dragging her eyes back to the window at her side.

Somehow, Del had managed to charm the woman at the ticket counter into upgrading their seats. She had never flown first class, and would normally be more excited than Britney Spears at a wig sale, but she just couldn't muster more than a mumbled "thanks" when they dropped into their seats. She wanted to be excited to get back to her own bed, to share all of her experiences with the man she loved. Instead, she felt like her heart had been ripped out, replaced by throbbing, aching guilt.

Running his hand over the top of his bald head, Del reached his free hand to her cd player, clicking the stop and rolling his eyes when she groaned and removed her ear buds. "Talk to me," he instructed.

With a sigh, Cameron shifted and crossed her legs in the roomy seat. "It's a dream come true, Del," she admitted. "The money's better than I could have hoped."

Del nodded, whipping a notebook out of his carry-on bag. "Let's do some math, Cami," he laughed, looking over the numbers in the contract. "A hundred bucks for non-wrestling appearances at each show. A buck fifty if you wrestle. And two hundred if the show is televised." He began to scribble numbers on the empty page of his notebook. "If you take part in every non-televised show, that's 156 shows in a year. Let's say you only wrestle half of them," he worked the numbers furiously. "And, with the television deal they just signed, that's another 52 televised appearances."

"Be realistic, Del," Cameron warned, touching his hand as he continued to work. "I might get a chance to be on television 35 times. And that's generous."

Biting his lip, Del crossed out the figure he had been working with and started on a new list. "Alright. Let's see," he stopped speaking until he had reached a final number. Circling it, he laughed. "Twenty-six thousand five hundred," he announced.

Cameron rolled her eyes. She and Ryan were already bringing in close to that in Texas, and it didn't come close to allowing them breathing room. "It's more than I had hoped," she repeated. "But it's not enough to entice Ryan."

"So what's holdin' him back? I mean, have you asked him why he doesn't want this?" Though she had told him about nearly every fight she'd had with her husband, Del had always done his best to keep his professional distance, at least from her marriage. She was the closest thing he had to a star, and all he was truly concerned about was making sure that she stayed focused and happy.

Blowing out a long breath, she crossed her arms over her legs and drew her knees to her chest. "I'm asking him to change his entire life for me," she defended, knowing that it was the only real argument she had. To be honest, she hadn't been able to get a real answer out of Ryan since they had started fighting over her dreams.

Del, like everyone else she had talked about the situation with, just shook his head. "You're a team, right? Isn't that what marriage is?" When she rolled her eyes, he chuckled. "Yeah, that's why I never did it. Honestly, though, Cami, I think you need to talk to him about it. Ask him, point blank, what his issues are. See if you guys can work through them."

"And if we can't?"

Her voice was so fragile, like a scolded child, that he fought the urge to hug her and tell her it would all be okay. He knew that it wasn't a decision that she made lightly, and there was a very good chance she wouldn't go the direction he was hoping that she would. "You'll figure it out."

-----

By the time they arrived back at Del's gym, all Cameron wanted to do was sleep for the rest of the week. The weekend had been exhausting, both emotionally and physically, and she feared it was only going to get worse when Ryan got home from work.

As she dropped her bag onto the couch, Cameron checked the voice mail on her cell phone and trudged down the hall toward her bedroom. Mark's rumbling voice brought a smile to her face, in spite of the fact that his memory sat like a rock in her gut.

"Hey, baby. Just touched down in Michigan. Uh, I had a great time with you this weekend. Call me."

Cameron stepped over the threshold to her bedroom, her heart leaping into her throat. Though Mark's voice still echoed in her ear, she couldn't stop the tears from pricking her eyes. The bed perfectly made, something she wasn't sure it had been since they moved into the house. On her pillow lay a single white rose, her favorite, with a piece of notebook paper.

Moving on numb legs, Cameron lowered herself to the mattress and took the note slowly from its place. With trembling fingers, she lowered her head and allowed her eyes to drift over the sheet. Ryan's rushed scribble caused the tears to spill over her cheeks.

_Cami Bear,_

_You've been gone for two days and I think I'm goin' a little bit crazy. Today, Chase told me that I haven't stopped talkin' about you since you left. I didn't even realize it. So I've been an ass about the wrestling thing, but I can't believe how much I've missed you bein' here. I wonder if you're havin' fun, if it's what you thought it would be. I was gonna call you, but I didn't wanna interrupt your try-out. When you get home, I'm gonna hear you out and we're gonna have a real discussion about moving. Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not so much likin' not havin' my wife around._

_Love you,_

_Ry_

Laying back against the old comforter, she stared at the ceiling and allowed her tears to splash over her face. She wanted him to be the same old Ryan. She wanted him to be the guy who couldn't understand why she would want to pursue a life that seemed so far-fetched. She wanted him to be the man she had prepared herself to walk away from. She had almost convinced herself that it was that guy's fault she had ended up in bed with another man.

Sobs wracked her body as she curled into the fetal position, her eyes resting on the wedding photo next to the bed. "What the hell have I done?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Thanks again for all of your support - you guys never cease to amaze me. Enjoy!

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Four hours earlier, all Cameron had wanted was to return to her own bed and sleep off what had been an invigorating, yet exhausting, weekend. But as she stood at the kitchen counter, picking at the bowl of dried cereal she had poured for herself, she knew that it hadn't been a dream, and she wasn't going to be able to wake up from the decisions that she had made.

The front door swung open, causing Cameron's stomach to lurch once again. "Hey, Cami Bear," Ryan exclaimed, slamming the door with his foot as he made his way to his wife. When his arms wrapped around her, she fought not to vomit on his shoulder.

"You're home early," she tried to force a smile, tucking her hair behind her ears as she took refuge behind the counter once again.

If he noticed how down she was, Ryan didn't let on. "I worked a lot of overtime this weekend," he shrugged, reaching into her bowl as he lowered himself to the stool across from her and leaned forward on his elbows. His dark hair flopped over his eyes as his full lips curled into a little-boy smile. "So how was it?"

The simple question nearly broke Cameron. How did she tell him it was the greatest weekend of her life without telling him that she had broken their marriage vows, and hadn't really given him much of a thought the entire time? How did she break his heart when he was looking like the kid she fell in love with over a decade ago? "It was good," she answered flatly, chewing with concentration as she studied the counter.

Ryan just laughed, his face alight at the mere presence of his wife. "That's it?" he asked. "Just good? Come on," he stood and held his hand out. When Cameron took the invitation, he led her to the couch and put his arm around the back of the seat. "I wanna hear about it."

"Why?" The question was out before she could reign it in. It was everything she had hoped for, him showing an interest in the life she was pursuing. Mixed with the guilt in her gut, however, his abrupt personality turn was rubbing her the wrong way.

Slightly taken aback by the question, Ryan withdrew his arm and clasped his wife's hand in his own. "Because you're my wife. Because I know you want this and I'm anxious to hear how it all went down."

_Oh, if you only knew_, Cameron thought, biting her lip to keep the anger from spilling over. Most of the rage was directed at herself, but she couldn't help wondering what the hell had gotten into her husband. It was as if he knew he was on the verge of losing her, and now he was pulling out all of the charming little stops to reel her back in. "What changed?" she asked coldly, pulling her hand back and crossing her arms over her chest.

If anyone had walked into the trailer in that moment, they would have surely thought Cameron had just slapped her husband in the face. The way Ryan's eyes widened, and his jaw slacked, he appeared to have been struck. "I've been an ass," he admitted softly, resting a hand on his wife's shoulder once more. "But you bein' gone sucked. I seriously missed you."

"So now you're just gonna be 'gung ho' husband?" She knew that she sounded bitter, wounded, but she couldn't help it. The emotions of the past week were rushing over her at such a break-neck pace, and she was lost as to how to cope. It was as if she had just stepped off the world's largest roller coaster, and she was stumbling to find her legs. "Because you didn't have your snuggle buddy?"

Shaking his head, Ryan looked as confused as his wife felt. "What the hell?" he asked, scooting back on the couch a few inches. "I thought you wanted me to be more supportive."

Cameron stood and ran her fingers through her hair. "I want you to stand behind me because you believe in me, Ryan. Because you're proud of me, of what I'm doing. Not because you got lonely." Sometimes she wondered if he understood her at all, if he had heard anything she had said over the last six months.

But Ryan was tired of being berated. He had been wrong, and he had been willing to tell her so. And now she was yelling at him again. "I can't win with you," he threw his arms out, standing to regain some sense of equilibrium. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Nothing," she insisted a bit too loudly, and a bit too quickly.

Arms flailing, Ryan launched into fight mode. They had been here too many times. Standing on opposites sides of the cluttered coffee table, arguing about anything and everything. "Four days ago, you wanted me to pack up my entire life and follow you to another fucking state, and now you want me to back off and drop the whole subject?"

"I want you to give a damn!" Cameron lashed out, no longer able to stifle her emotions. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she pleaded with him, reaching toward him, but never making contact. "I want you to come to one of my shows. Just one. I want you to see what I do and try. Just try to see why it's so fucking important to me!"

"Wrestling's not my thing, Cami," he argued. "You know that. You don't like baseball, but you don't see me crying and begging you to come to a game."

As the tears poured over her cheeks, Cameron couldn't hold back. She couldn't keep pretending that it would be okay if she didn't follow her dreams. She couldn't keep settling. "I don't want you to be a fan of wrestling!" she proclaimed. "I could not give a fuck less if you can't tell Hulk Hogan from the Incredible fucking Hulk, Ryan."

"You just said," he began to interrupt.

"I want you to be a fan of ME, dammit!" she screamed, her voice cracking as she kicked the card table in their "dining" room.

An awkward silence fell over the room as Ryan let his wife's words sink into his skull. For nearly a year, he had watched her morph into someone he didn't recognize, and for a better part of that time, he had pushed her away. He had given her no reason to smile in his direction, and he wasn't sure he could show her that he wanted to save what they had. "I love you," he croaked around the lump of emotion forming in his throat.

But it was too little, too late as far as Cameron was concerned. "You say it," she whispered, shaking her head and nibbling on her bottom lip. "You say that you love me, but you have no interest in watching me do what I love to do," she shrugged, emotionally exhausted after her previous display. "You laugh, and joke, and tease me about it. It's the punchline for you and your drunk friends." With a cynical chuckle, she relaxed her shoulders and met his eyes. If she was going to be honest, she was going to have to be completely honest. "You have never believed, not for a second, that I could do this, Ryan. You wanted me to fail just so your life wouldn't have to change."

Defeated, she turned, walking toward the bedroom. She could hear Ryan's footsteps, but it didn't matter anymore. She was done. And it had nothing to do with Mark, or with wrestling. It was about maturity.

When they had gotten married, her father had warned her that it wouldn't be easy. He had cautioned her that they each had a lot of growing up to do. And he had openly doubted that they would turn out the same people on the other side of their personal changes. At the time, she had laughed when he told her that he would have never married the woman her mother had been at eighteen. But by the time they walked down the aisle, at twenty-eight, he couldn't imagine a woman more suited for him.

Like every determined young woman would have, Cameron laughed her daddy off and told him not to worry. She loved Ryan, and she always would, no matter where life took them. She wondered, as she grabbed her gym bag from the floor, if she should send him a card letting him know that he had been absolutely right.

"Where are you going?" Ryan asked when she returned to the living room.

Grabbing her keys from the hook next to the door, Cameron just shook her head. "To the gym."

He looked dumbfounded. "We're not done here, Cameron," he insisted. "You can't just walk away."

With a chuckle, she nodded. "Yeah, I can," she informed him, opening the door slowly. "Because this is what I do." Raising the gym bag, she shrugged. "This is who I am."

She had barely stepped onto the front porch when he cleared his throat. "Give me five minutes," he called out. When she turned and raised an eyebrow, he blushed. "You want me to see who you are? I'll go with you. I wanna see."


	12. Chapter 12

**Make Me Believe**

"Customer at table 4, Cam!"

Nodding over the chaos in the diner, Cameron sat a tray of dishes in the kitchen window and grabbed the order pad from her apron. Tucking her dark hair behind her ears, she headed toward table 4 without so much as glancing up. The lunch rush was in full swing, and she was more than determined to pocket as many tips as possible before the day was over.

Stopping at the side of the table, she flipped her pad open and glanced down to fish the pencil out of her apron. "What can I getcha?"

"What's good?"

The deep voice reverberated within her chest and she couldn't stop her dark eyes from flying to Mark's smiling face. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

Looking over the menu, he smirked and met her eye again. "Well, seein' as this is a restaurant, and I'm hungry," he started, flinching when she smacked his shoulder. "Woman," he warned in a low tone, a rumbling laughter following the word.

It had been nearly a month since their tawdry affair, and Cameron hadn't heard from him since. Ryan wasn't perfect, but he was trying to be more supportive. He was working out with her when his schedule would allow, and accompanying her to a few of her shows. He had even agreed to move to Georgia when she and Del explained what an amazing chance it was for her career. She wasn't interested in ruining the perfection by dragging Mark back into the equation.

"You look good, Cameron," he complimented after holding her stare for a few seconds.

The blush crept up her neck as she forced herself to break the eye contact. "So do you," she admitted. Though they'd shared one passionate weekend together, she was sure that she had flushed Mark Calaway from her system. She was over it, and there was no need to revisit it. Until he showed up.

Mark nodded and allowed his eyes to drift back over the menu. "Del says you signed the deal," he said, a grin of approval spreading over his features. "When do you leave?"

"July," Cameron answered, her face lighting up at the thought of starting her new life. It was all she could do to keep herself in Tyler, but she knew that they needed to tie up the loose ends before running off to a new city. "Three months that feel like forever."

She was still the cutest thing he had ever seen. Tossing the menu to the table, Mark folded his hands on the table before him and met her gaze again. "Give me the Angus burger, medium rare," he ordered. "With fries."

Cameron jotted the order onto her pad and added an iced tea that he hadn't requested. He would have, she knew, if she had asked. "Comin' right up," she smiled politely, hurrying away from the table as quickly as she could.

She had to get out from under his scrutiny. She couldn't hear his voice. As much as she wanted to believe that she could sweep their evening under the rug, seeing him again brought a throbbing to her body that she wanted to forget. She was happy. Without him.

When he finished his meal, and had signed a few autographs, Cameron approached the table once again. "Did you need anything else?" The wicked smile he shot her sent chills up her spine. "From the menu?" she asked with a knowing smirk.

Shaking his head easily, Mark shifted off of his seat to fish his wallet out of his pocket. "So I'm stayin' with Del tonight," he informed. "You should stop by. We can have a couple beers and celebrate your big move."

With a shrug, she tore his bill from the pad in her hand and slid it into the place in front of him. "Sorry, but I have a date," she winked. He seemed surprised. "With my husband. And the ALCS," she added.

"I didn't know you liked baseball." Leaning forward, Mark watched her carefully. There were so many things he didn't know about her. So many things that he wanted to know.

Cameron's eyes clouded as she rolled them. "I don't," she said, chuckling when he pressed a bill into her hand. "But Ryan lives for it. And we're trying to enjoy each other's worlds a little bit more."

Somewhere inside, Mark had always known that this was the life that Cameron wanted. Even when she was with him in McDonough, he had sensed that she would have rather been with her husband. But he couldn't lie. He'd been happy that Ryan was being an A+ asshole. He was thrilled that the kid didn't know what he had, and that Cameron had seeked some comfort in his arms.

Now she was truly happy. She had everything that she wanted, and he really wished that he could be happy for her. Wasn't that how it was supposed to be? Wasn't he supposed to want what was best for her, even if that wasn't him? "And how's that goin'?" he asked as easily as he could.

For a brief moment, Cameron could have sworn that he was disappointed that her marriage was succeeding. But he was her friend - he had offered her nothing more. There was no reason for him to be jealous. And there was no reason for her to care if he was. "It's great," she forced her smile, wanting more than anything to assure him that he was still important to her, even though she knew that she couldn't.

When Mark slid from his seat and stood beside her, he couldn't help resting a hand on her shoulder as he towered above her. "If you get bored with the game, you're welcome to come on over," he extended the invitation once more. "And if not, then it was good to see you again."

More than anything, Cameron wished that she wasn't blushing. She wished to hell that his presence wasn't affecting her, that every cell in her body wasn't recalling his touch. "It was good to see you, too, Mark," she whispered, giving him a little wave as he turned to leave. Though she wanted nothing more than to jump into his arms and let him know that he had brightened her day in more ways than one, she knew that everyone in the diner was watching to see what would happen between little Cami Tucker and her big-shot friend.

Trying her best to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, Cameron cashed out the bill and went about her day. She would finish her evening and take dinner home with her. She would head to Georgia in a few months. She would pursue her dreams with the man that she loved. She would forget about Mark eventually. _Won't I? _

-----

Pulling up to the trailer, Cameron felt her heart sink. She had brought surf and turf meals for herself and Ryan, along with a case of his favorite Coors Light. But somehow she didn't think that was going to feed the owners of the five cars parked along side the house.

"Great," she groaned, cutting her engine and stepping out of the vehicle. "Just fuckin' great."

It wasn't that she minded his friends hanging around - she knew that he was going to spend as much time as possible with them before the move. But this was supposed to be date night. They were supposed to be alone. She wanted to snuggle up on the couch and make fun of him when he yelled at the umpire on the television. She wasn't in the mood to share him.

She was well-aware that her mood, at least in part, was due to Mark's surprise visit. The duration of her afternoon had been spent trying to get his sent out of her nostrils. She had done everything she could to get the mischievous twinkle of his eyes out of her mind. The deep rumbling of his voice wouldn't clear out of her ears. And now she had Ryan's dumbass friends to contend with.

The celebration was in full swing when she opened the front door, though she had been able to hear them cheering from the porch. The smell of pizza assaulted her as she kicked the door closed and struggled not to drop the beer on the floor.

"Oh, come on, tough girl," one of his friends chided when they turned to look at her. "You can lift a case of beer, can't you?"

Setting the case on the table, she flipped the group off and moved to the refrigerator to deposit the dinners she had brought home. Ignoring the guys, she stalked off to her bedroom, slamming the door for effect. Ryan was right behind her, a dopey grin on his face that said he'd already had a beer or two.

"Come on, baby," he motioned toward the door. "You gotta come celebrate with us."

Cameron just shook her head and sank to the bed, kicking her sneakers off and rubbing the bottoms of her feet. "Give me a second," she shot. "I've got a raging headache, Ryan," she added. "I thought it was just us tonight."

With a shrug, Ryan lowered his lean frame to the bed beside his wife. "That was before," he bit his bottom lip, as though that would help him contain whatever news was bursting inside of him. "I've got some awesome news, Cami Bear," he laughed, grabbing her hand. "Ask me what I did today."

Squinting her eyes, she turned to him. "You better say that you worked your ass off," she warned. "Our cable bill's due," she reminded him, knowing that the bill was larger than normal since they had ordered Armeggeddon on pay per view the month before.

"I kinda skipped," he grinned. "But when you hear why, you'll totally understand," he added. "Jeff and I went to an open tryout with the Rangers."

The way he was smiling like a crazy kid told Cameron that he was really proud of himself. "You what?" she asked, unsure of how to process the information. He had never so much as mentioned knowing about an open try out, let alone wanting to go to one. Yeah, he played on a community softball team, but he hadn't really played since high school and she hadn't heard word one about him having any desire to do it again. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Shrugging, Ryan stood and pulled his wife up to his side. "Jeff heard about it on the radio this morning. He called me on the way to work and we figured 'what the hell,' right? So we drove up to Dallas and went for it."

Her mouth gaped. She could tell from his expression that he expected her to be proud of him. "Why the fuck would you do that?" she asked. Just because she knew what he was expecting didn't mean that she would give it to him. "Ryan, that is the most asinine thing I have ever heard."

"I got a call back, Cam," he defended, crossing his arms over his chest. "Out of three hundred guys, I got asked back for another work out. Do you realize how hard that is?" Rolling his eyes, he assumed a defensive stance. "Or is it just that you don't wanna see me realize a dream?"

Standing, Cameron shook her head and reached for her shoes. "This isn't your dream, Ryan," she told him. "This is your revenge."

She had done a lot of stupid things in her life. In the ring, she had done more than her fair share of embarrassing things. But nobody had ever made her feel like a fool. Not like he was now. He had played along. He had convinced her that they could make it work. But the first chance he had to stick it to her, he had taken it.

"What are you talking about?" Ryan asked, turning to his wife in pure confusion. "Revenge? I went for something that I've always wanted to do, and I might be good enough to attain the dream. Isn't that what you're doing? Why is it okay for you, but not for me?"

Ripping her waitress uniform from her body, she searched for a pair of shorts and a tank top. "Because we are supposed to be moving in three months. Three months!" Grabbing a hooded sweatshirt from the floor, she yanked it over her shoulders and zipped it up the front. "You're doing this to hurt me, not because you want it!"

His friends pretended to be focused on the game when she emerged from the room, but Cameron could have cared less if they weighed in at the moment. She just wanted to get away from the man who had gone from the top of her list to the bottom in less than thirty minutes.

"Everything is not about you, Cameron," Ryan spat as she grabbed her keys and yanked the front door open.

She slammed the door without another word, cranking the engine of her car and peeling out of the driveway. Though Cameron prided herself on being a pretty chill person, she had never been so angry in her entire life. Maybe she was over-analyzing. Maybe Ryan had gone to that try out on a whim. But she seriously doubted it.

When she reached her destination, she let herself into Del's house without so much as a knock. The door clanged behind her as she kicked her flip flops to the side and shed her jacket violently. "Del's at a bodybuilding show in Houston this weekend," she told Mark, who hadn't even managed to jump up off of the couch in surprise by the time she moved over the coffee table and straddled his legs, working the buckle on his jeans without meeting his eyes.

Taken slightly aback, Mark managed to set his beer bottle on the table before Cameron raked her fingers over his bare chest and looped her arms around his neck. "I thought you had a date," he stammered, shocked by her forwardness.

With one finger over his lips, she snaked her hand into the front of his pants and shook her head. "I'm not even sure I have a husband anymore."


	13. Chapter 13

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: This one's a little long, but there were a lot of things I wanted to get in. Hope you Enjoy!**

**Warning: This chapter contains strong sexual content!**

_Oh, and I wanted to make mention of one other thing here - bkerbunny and I have co-written a John Cena/OC story called On the Record. It will also feature Batista, for those of you who are interested. Stacy's idea is totally fresh, and I hope you guys like it._

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The sunlight assaulted Cameron face as she blinked and buried her face in the shoulder beside her. With a groan, she tightened her grip on Mark's body as he began to roll away from her. "No," she mumbled.

"You want me to pee right here?" he asked with a laugh as she released him and stretched her legs.

Cameron waited until she heard the bathroom door close and then grunted as she sat and pushed her mane out of her face. From the moment Mark had suggested she come over and hang with him and Del, she had known what he wanted. Del had been talking about the bodybuilding show for weeks, and she was well-aware that he was out of town. She had known, when she walked through the door, was going to happen. And she had wanted it. She still wanted it.

Making her way to her feet, Cameron wrapped her arms around her body and wandered toward the guest room. Mark's clothing was exploding from his suitcase, and she couldn't help wondering if he had intended to stay longer than the weekend. Dressing quickly in the closest tee shirt she could find, she made her way toward the back of the house.

The smell of rain hung heavily in the air as Cameron stepped onto the back deck and surveyed the acres of land behind Del's home. She had often longed for the solitude that he owned, telling Ryan that they would have to buy a house just like his someday. There was something seductive about the thought of lounging around on a lazy, Saturday morning, dressed only in her panties with a steaming mug of coffee between her fingers.

Resting her elbows against the railing, she watched as the wind kicked the dust around the ground. The rain had always been able to bring a smile to Cameron's face. The turmoil of the impending storm seemed to echo her emotions. She loved Ryan, but the previous night had shown her that her marriage was never going to be what she wanted it to be. He couldn't deal with her choices, and she couldn't expect him to.

They wanted different things out of life. It wasn't either of their faults. It was just a fact of life. If she could wrap her head around that truth, she might be able to move on without feeling like an enormous failure.

She heard Mark's heavy footsteps on the deck before she felt his hands sliding around her waist. "What are you doin'?" he asked gruffly, pulling her back against his body.

With a sigh of contentment, Cameron rested her head against his chest, slightly disappointed to feel the rough fabric of his jeans against the backs of her thighs. "Thinkin'," she answered, allowing herself to enjoy the feeling of the morning breeze against her skin.

Seeing her dressed in his shirt had been almost more than Mark could take. There was something inherently sexy about a woman draped in a man's clothing, and he knew instantly that he had to have her again. "'Bout what?" he asked, pressing his lips against her neck.

There were so many things that she wanted to tell him, but Cameron couldn't bring herself to say the words. Her issues with her husband were hers to deal with, and they had to be separate from her feelings for him. Instead of speaking, she rotated her head, capturing his lips in hers. The skies grumbled their disapproval, but Cameron was beyond caring. Being with him took her to a place she had never been with anyone else, and she just couldn't bring herself to pull away.

When he felt her body tilt in his arms, Mark broke the kiss and took her hands in his. Placing them back on the deck railing, he gripped her hip in one hand and used the other to unzip his jeans. Pushing them down just far enough, he lifted the hem of her tee shirt, resting it against her waist.

Cameron felt her breath catch in her throat as Mark gently ran his hand over her bottom. He caressed her skin with such affection that she moaned in pleasure from the simple act. "Mark," she pleaded softly, her eyes clinched as he guided his hardened shaft into her tightness without warning. "God," she cried out as a streak of lightening lit the clouded skies.

Returning his lips to her ear, Mark whispered huskily, "I can't keep my hands off you," he growled. When her hips pressed back against his, thunder pierced the air, as if sounding a final cry of warning. The wind was blowing around them, but there was no chill as their bodies generated a blazing inferno. Thrusting his hips forward again, Cameron yelped loudly, her hands gripping the railing to keep from falling.

Her body screamed for a release, but Cameron fought the urge to let go. It was too good. She wanted it to last forever. Throwing her head back, she groaned loudly. In response, the skies opened, droplets of rain spilling onto her conflicted face, washing away the doubts and the guilt of the moment as Mark continued to fill her to the brim with pleasure. "More," she pleaded urgently.

As the rain plastered their hair to their faces, Mark removed a hand from Cameron's hip, running his palm over her face and forehead, gathering her wet locks between his fingers. When she dropped her head between her shoulders, he held her reigns firmly, pulling her back again.

"Oh, God!" she cried out, the feeling of his authoritative grip spinning her in a new direction entirely.

Smirking slightly, Mark increased his speed. "You like that, baby?" he growled against her neck. "You like it a little rough, don'tcha?" She whimpered. "Yeah," he encouraged. "You wanna be my bad girl, Cameron?"

The sound of his voice, mixed with his questions and the rolling thunder around them, was sending Cameron's senses over the edge. Her body was filled with new sensations, feelings she didn't know how to counter. "Don't," she gasped, her knuckles turning white against the railing. "Don't stop."

Though he'd twisted her into several positions over the course of the night before, Mark had never seen her so enraptured. The way that the rain streaked against her skin, the oversized tee shirt clinging to her skin, he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He could call her a bad girl all he wanted, but she was the best he'd ever had, and he couldn't deny it any longer.

Releasing her hair, he watched as she lurched forward, crying out as her orgasm took both of them over the edge. The rain, which had been soothing only seconds earlier, pelted her sensitive nerves like tiny daggers as her body fought to remain upright.

Moving his arms to the railing beside hers, Mark rested his head against the back of her neck, breathing in her scent as his breathing began to even. "That's my girl," he mumbled, moving one hand back to her waist. "So good."

As Mark continued muttered his affirmations against her skin, Cameron caught her breath. He had made her no promises. They might never have a future together. Her career was just beginning and her marriage was on the verge of ending. Everything about the situation spelled complete disaster. But as storm raged around them, Cameron felt an eerie sense of calm passing through her. She had no idea what happened next, but she knew that she was going to be okay.

-----

"Alright, so I'm headed out," Mark announced, rolling his suitcase into the living room on Sunday evening. Del had arrived home earlier in the evening, only to hear the giggles of his student emenating from the bathroom. He had nearly dropped his luggage when his friend's uproarious laughter followed over the sounds of falling water in the shower.

Though he'd had his suspicions for months, Del had chosen to ignore the fratrenizing that might be going on around him. Of course, Mark hadn't visited nearly as much in the past five years of their friendship as he had since meeting Cameron. And Cameron had been much more driven toward her career goals since meeting Mark. But he had never truly believed that either of them would actually cross the line.

Rising to meet Mark's outstretched hand, Del gave him a man hug and patted his back. "You busy the first weekend of next month?" he asked. When Mark shrugged, Del cast a sideways glance over his shoulder and then dropped onto the couch next to Cameron. "I got a call yesterday," he said, unsure of which one to address with the information. "Your girlfriend here got an invite to the Women of Wrestling Invitational in Vegas."

Cameron couldn't fight the squeal that escaped as she jumped off of the couch. The WOW tournament was huge - it was the premier tournament for women on the indie circuit, and just being recognized with an invitation was an honor. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked, her hands buried in her hair as she tried to wrap her head around the idea. "I'm going to WOW?"

He couldn't help laughing at her response, nodding and leaning back on the couch to watch her exuberance. Cameron had grown into a hell of a wrestler, but watching her react like a hyperactive junior high girl never grew old. Her focus and her ambition were inspiration, but the joy with which she took in each new step of her career was invigorating. "Well, we have to accept the invitation, but yeah," he finally answered.

Mark watched the happy dance that Cameron was doing as she twirled in a circle and flailed her arms at her sides. "Unless you hurt yourself doin' that dance there," he teased when she finally stopped moving.

Flipping him off, Cameron shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and took a deep breath. "That's so awesome," she said as calmly as possible, though the smile wouldn't budge from her face. "But you don't have to come, Mark."

With a nod, he opened his arms to her. "I'll see what I can do," he promised, inhaling the scent of her shampoo as she hugged his waist tightly. Despite Del's earlier reference, she was not his girlfriend. At least not yet. Though they hadn't left the house since her arrival two days earlier, she was still married. And until she made a final decision on that, he couldn't make a move. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He was a busy guy. He had known her for a few months, but had only managed to find the time to see her on a couple of occasions. When she moved to McDonough, it would only get worse. She would be wrapped up in her training, and there were rumors he would be getting another shot at a title soon. Everything was working against them, and Mark knew that he couldn't make a commitment to the woman he was growing more and more fond of with every minute they shared.

He shook hands with Del again, promising to give him a call in the next couple of days, and then allowed Cameron to walk him to the truck in the driveway. "Look, I know that you're super busy," she started, her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "And you and I aren't even," she started.

Cutting her off with a seering kiss, Mark tasted her as though he would never have another chance. For all he knew, he wouldn't. "I will see what I can do," he repeated his earlier statement. "I'll call you when I get back to Houston," he added with a wink, pulling her into another tight hug. "I'm proud of you, Kid," he added before jumping into the truck.

When she stepped back over the threshold, she scrunched her nose up and took her place at Del's side once again. "So tell me how disappointed you are," she stated, crossing her arms and waiting for the tongue-lashing.

But Del said nothing. He only ran his hand over his bald head, shaking it slowly as he thought about his next words. "You're an adult," he said. "What do you want me to do? Ground you?" When Cameron blushed and pulled her knees to her chest, he considered her for a moment. "We're friends, right? I can tell you what I think?"

"You've never held back before, have you?" she asked with a huff. In all of the time she had known him, Del had never held back. He'd never sugar-coated anything for her, and it was part of the reason that she loved him so much.

Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and cast her a sideways glance. "What are you doin' with Mark? I mean, is it a hero-worship thing? Groupie fantasy? Do you love him? What's goin' on there?" Normally, he would assume it was none of his business, but these were two of his closest friends, on the verge of making one of the biggest mistakes of either of their lives.

Cameron stared at her hands for a moment, her diamond engagement ring glinting back at her in mockery. "It's not a groupie thing," she insisted. Meeting Del's eye, she scrunched her nose and shook her head. "Does it make me sound like a total girl if I say that he believes in me?"

"Yes," Del acknowledged, rolling his eyes when she flipped him off.

Flopping back on the couch, Cameron rolled her head to face her friend. "Alright, well this will sound a whole lot less romantic," she prepped him. "I like the fact that there's no expectations with him. He's cool, we have lots of stuff in common. But with all this shit I got comin' up, moving and starting my career? I know I'm not gonna have time to start a relationship. He doesn't have time for one, so it's cool."

Thinking about her explanation, Del pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he started. "But don't you already have a relationship? Why the hell would you need time to start another one?"

"Oh," Cameron rolled her eyes. "Ryan decided to try out with the Rangers on Friday." She figured the shocked look on Del's face echoed the one she'd had upon hearing the news two days earlier. "And he got a call back."

The room fell awkwardly silent. How did anyone respond to that kind of news? "And that's why you came over here? To ring the final bell?" She shrugged, looking like a guilty little girl. "You know that's the pussy way out, right?"

"I was just so angry, Del," Cameron cried out. "He was acting like it was all cool, like he was all excited about the move and he was so proud of me and everything. And then he gets pissed when I'm not jumping for joy at his sudden change of plans."

He understood her motivation, but Del wasn't about to condone the way either Cameron or Ryan were acting. He wasn't sure if it was because they had married too early, or if something else had stunted their maturity, but they were both acting like children. "You're a grown-ass woman, Cameron. Whether Ryan's gonna act like an adult or not, you still have to," he advised. "You're about to enter a business that requires respect, determination, and loyalty. You can't just act on your emotions anymore. You gotta grow up a little bit."

His words stung like a slap to the face, but they also pulled the veil away from Cameron's eyes. Nobody was going to fix the mistakes she had made if she didn't do it herself. Nobody was going to make the situation better for her. She couldn't brush it under the rug or pretend her indescretions were someone else's fault. "So," she sighed, planting her feet on the floor and bending at her waist to rest her elbows on her knees, "it's time to buck up or shut up."


	14. Chapter 14

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Okay, so there's just a couple little things that I want to say here before this chapter is off and running. First of all, to those of you who couldn't find chapter 13 yesterday, I have no idea what happened - this site has been doing all sorts of strange things as of late, and I hope that you are able to catch it now. **

**The other thing I want to say is this: I LOVE getting reviews for this story. And I love hearing what you guys think about the controversy of it all. One of the standards by which I judge my success in creating a story is how people connect with, relate to, and honestly react to it. I have been blown away this time around, not by the number of reviews, but by the way so many of you have given your opinions and thoughts on what's going on within the plot. Gin, I love you, girlie - thanks for keepin' me on my toes and making me think about angles that I hadn't even considered. (btw, your secret is safe with me!) Shannon, Shawn, and all of the rest of you who have given me your honest opinions, even if they are not always "More Cameron and Taker," thank you so much for reading with an open, and intelligent mind. I love you guys!**

**Okay, nuff said. Enjoy!

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It was time to stop the charade. For an hour, she drove in circles around Tyler, thinking of everything that she would say to Ryan. She had tried to anticipate his every reaction, preparing herself for anything he could throw at her. She knew what she would do if he cried, and if he became violent. She even came up with a plan for handling his stoic silence.

She then drove to her parents' house, finding her mother in the garden. Over a pitcher of sweet tea, she had laid out everything she was intending to say, watching her mom's eyes fill with disappointment and sadness. Though she expressed her concerns and her disapproval, the older woman had ended their conversation by assuring her daughter that her old room would be waiting, and that she would have the unconditional support of her family in whatever she decided.

Leaving the old homestead with her head held high, Cameron directed her car toward the house. But the closer she got to the trailer, the more agitated the butterflies in her stomach became. Pulling a large U-turn in the center of the street, she had headed off in the opposite direction, needing just a few more minutes to think, to get her emotions in check.

What she was about to do, the words she was about to say, would signal the end of the only romantic relationship she had ever known. She was about to put a definite end to the only life she was familiar with, and launch herself face-first into a completely daunting one she knew very little about in the first place. It had nothing to do with Mark, and very little to do with Ryan. This was about Cameron doing something for herself, something she should have done long ago.

If she was honest, she was glad that Ryan had gone to that try out. She was glad that he had been called back. And if he really wanted to make the team, she was sincerely hoping that he would. She wanted him to be happy. But more than that, she had been looking for the perfect out. Having him around all the time, working out with her and attending her shows, was supposed to make everything perfect. But it hadn't.

The only real purpose the last month had served was to increase her guilt over her weekend with Mark. As much as she told herself that it pushed him to the back of her mind, the truth was that their weekend together was never far from the very forefront of her thoughts. She had nearly confessed on several occasions, but couldn't bring herself to break Ryan's heart. His announcement about the Rangers had given her the perfect cover to blow up.

But she was tired of pretending, covering, and feeling guilty. She knew that she would make more mistakes in her life, but she wanted to make them on her own, without worrying about someone else's feelings. She owed Ryan complete honesty. She needed to let him go. She needed to move on.

By the time she eased the car along side the house, she had resigned herself to her fate. She would crash at her parents' house for the next three months, and deal with the weight of what she had done. And then she would move herself to Georgia and move on with her life. She would be okay. Ryan would be okay.

And then she stepped through the front door of the house.

Sitting on the couch, Ryan sipped from a beer bottle, his feet resting atop a cardboard box. "I think this is everything," he nodded to the other boxes stacked around the room. "I kept the dishes, but your pots and pans are in there," he pointed toward a couple of boxes on the card table.

Opening her mouth and then shutting it again several times, Cameron leaned against the front door and ran her fingers through her hair. "You're kicking me out," she stated, a numbness settling into her arms and legs.

His head nodded slowly. "You didn't come home," he stated, no anger in his voice. It was as if he was sincerely explaining to her exactly why she couldn't be there. Like she didn't understand. "You somehow managed to get it up in your head that I don't give a flying fuck about you, Cameron, but I do. More than I thought I did.

"The guys left around two. At four, I threw up. Wasn't even hungover. Just worried," he shrugged, taking another swig of his beer. "So I went to the gym. Car wasn't there. Went to your mom's. Car wasn't there, either. Couldn't remember how to get to Del's," he said.

Cameron's shoulders sagged with relief. All she needed was for him to peep in a window and see what she had been doing in the living room with Mark. "Ryan," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

But he only held up a hand and continued is verbal inward dialogue. "Found an old tournament invitation on the counter there," he nodded toward the kitchen. "Del's address was on it, so I drove over to Jeff's and Mapquested it. Drove out there, and what do you know? Car parked next to some big, ol' pick up truck." Meeting her eyes, he took another drink, his expression hard. "Guess you didn't hear me knockin' on the door. What with all the furniture you were rearrangin'."

She felt the bile rising in her throat before she could think to move. Running down the hall, Cameron emptied the contents of her stomach into the bowl as sobs racked her body. She had intended to tell him about the affair. She had planned it perfectly in the car. She would tell him about all of the other issues first, and then she would explain that she had slept with Mark on a couple of occasions, when she was sure that he understood that wasn't the reason for their marriage ending.

By the time she had splashed water over her face, he was looming behind her, leaning casually in the doorway of the tiny room. "Been goin' on for awhile, hasn't it?" he asked.

Turning, she held the hand towel over her face, resting her behind on the edge of the sink. She couldn't look at him, couldn't bring herself to see the accusations in his eyes. Nodding, she sniffled back another sob. The sound of her words was muffled by the cloth at her mouth, and Ryan reached out to pull it back, the beer bottle still dangling between his fingers.

"I'm so sorry," she managed to choke out when she risked a glance at him through lowered lashes. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Ryan smirked, shaking his head in disbelief. "You don't just fuckin' cheat on your husband by accident, Cami. I know it might be hard for you, but can you at least try to respect me enough to tell me the fucking truth? Now that I know?"

Like a wounded animal, all she wanted to do was hiss, claw, and bite back at him. She wanted to scream for him to understand, to try to act like an adult for once. But she had broken their marriage vows. And she had been planning a life without him. She had no right to fight back.

Stepping toward him, she squeezed past him and looked into the bedroom. The piles of laundry on the floor were seriously diminished, and the candles were gone. The closet was more than half empty, but it was otherwise exactly as she had left it the night before. "When I met him, he was just The Undertaker, ya know?" she asked, lowering herself to the bed and then standing again. Sitting felt too comfortable. She didn't deserve comfort. "One of the most successful guys in the business that I wanted so badly to be a part of, and who was really complimentary about my talents.

"And it felt so good," she chuckled at the absurdity of the defense. She knew that it didn't make sense. But she knew that there was nothing she could say that would sound valid. There was nothing that made her actions right. "Knowing that somebody thought I was good enough to make it, that he wanted me to succeed? It was easy to convince myself that I was just thanking him for that faith in me."

In disbelief, Ryan sat his beer bottle on the top of the dresser and crossed his arms. "You couldn't just buy him a card? Maybe a bottle of hair dye?"

"We don't have any money!" Cameron argued without thinking, regretting it instantly.

Laughing, Ryan raked his hand through his floppy curls. "So our money problems are," he started, biting his lip and shaking his head. "Ya know what? I'm not even gonna have this fight with you. We've both known it was coming anyway," he sighed, turning back for the living room.

Cameron followed on legs of lead. It was what she had wanted, in reality. She had the gun loaded and cocked before she ever walked in the door. So why was it so hard to accept that she wasn't the one pulling the trigger? "Can I ask you a question?"

He opened the door and lifted one of the heavier boxes into his arms, leaning against the wall for support when he looked back. "What's that?"

"Why even pretend for the last month?" she asked with a shrug, grabbing the box closest to her before moving toward the door.

Ryan stepped onto the porch and spoke over his shoulder as he walked to his wife's car. "I wasn't pretending," he grunted, laying the box on the ground until she opened the trunk. After dumping the box, he rested his hands on his hips and offered her the first genuine smile she had seen since arriving home. "You forget who you're talking to, Cami?" Shaking his head, he took a step closer and grasped her arms in his hands. "I have known you for the better part of our lives, Woman. When you go off to the most life-changing event of your life, and you don't call me at all? I know somethin' is up, okay?

"You had already decided that you were goin' to Georgia before you ever got home. So what was I supposed to do? Fight you?" He released his grip and stepped back, leaning against the car and crossing his arms once again. "I figured I'd give it a shot. I decided I was gonna try to give it a shot, try to salvage what was left of us. Cause ya know what?" Tilting his head to the side, he gave her the crooked grin that had always set her heart on fire in the past. "It ain't easy walkin' away from somethin' that's been your life for as long as you can remember, ya know? We ain't been right for a long time, and every time we try to fix it?" He chuckled. "We just fuck it up even more."

For a moment, she thought that she might throw up again. The way that he was shrugging his shoulders made it seem as though he didn't care. But he was right. They knew each other. She could see it in his eyes. He loved her. More than he was ever going to admit in words. "And you don't think that we can co-exist for another three months?" she asked, unsure of where the questions were coming from. But at the moment, the thought of leaving him hurt more than she could explain. Not Ryan, her husband. But Ryan, her best friend since high school.

"No," he said without hesitation, stepping past her en route to the house once more. "You need to go, Cami. You need to follow your dreams. I've seen you in that ring, and you shine. You light up, and people love you, and it's where you're supposed to be," he explained. "And if I don't kick your ass outta this house, you're not gonna go," he predicted.

Stepping back over the threshold, she wordlessly helped him carry the rest of the boxes to the car. Once they were all loaded, she turned and rested her hand on his palm. "I was gonna leave today," she informed him.

Ryan smiled and took her hand in his. "Well, I didn't know that," he pointed out. "Kinda glad you didn't, though," he admitted, a slight blush beginning at the base of his neck.

"Why's that?" Cameron smiled, a sense of calm filling her beyond all explanation. She was about to get into her car and drive away from the union they had worked so hard to maintain, yet both were happier than they had been in more than a year.

Opening her door for her, Ryan stood on one side, creating a shield between them. "Helps me feel like more of a man," he sniffed, flexing his pecs as she laughed. After a brief moment of shared silence, his smile faded. "I hope all of your dreams come true, Cami Bear," he said sincerely.

Cameron leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for the last time. "You, too, Ry. I hope your call back goes well," she said, realizing that she actually meant it.

Sliding into the seat of the car, she started the engine as he slammed the door. In the review mirror, she cast one last look at her former life, heaving a heavy, cleansing sigh. The first book in the trilogy of her life had been completed, and she couldn't wait to crack the next book.


	15. Chapter 15

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: So I wanted to hold off posting this chapter, since I just posted one early this morning. But I've been sitting on this chapter for so long, and I've been dying to post it - it was actually one of the first I thought of when outlining this story. So I can't wait any longer, and I hope you guys enjoy it.**

**Oh, and check out the end of this chapter for another little message from me!

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**

Though she had been to some rough tournaments and shows before, nothing had prepared Cameron for the Women of Wrestling Invitational. Anyone who said that women couldn't wrestle had never been to Las Vegas for the annual WOW tournament. After a year of training, Cameron felt like a novice at the end of the first day.

Her muscles ached for a long, hot bubble bath. A whirlpool would have been better, but she couldn't get Dell to spring for a suite with one, and she refused to use a communal, pooside tub. God only knew what could be floating in it. She would just settle for resting her tired body, and mind, in her own room. That would be good enough.

It had been almost two months since she had moved in with her parents, and convicing her mother that she would be okay to travel alone had been a feat in itself. She loved her family, and appreciated everything that they had been doing for her in the wake of her separation, but their need to make sure she was "healing" was about to suffocate her. Stepping up her training efforts in anticipation of the tournament, as well as trying to find an apartment via e-mail and phone calls, had taken up most of her time. Not that she was complaining.

She had been sitting in the terminal earlier in the day, laughing with Del about his idea of appropriate ring attire, when her cell phone rang. She had seen Ryan around town, it was hard to avoid when they only knew the same people, but hadn't spoken with him privately. Not that she hadn't wanted to, the first few weeks after moving out had nearly killed her, but it just didn't seem necessary. When his familiar ring tone filled the air, she had answered it without a second thought.

_"Hey, baby boy," she spoke without thinking, groaning and rolling her eyes when she realized what she had said._

_There was a smile in his voice. "It's done, Cami Bear," he said simply._

_All of the previous frivolity drained from the atmosphere as she froze, staring at the linking "LV" on a passenger's bag beside her. "Oh," was all she said._

_"I didn't wanna ruin your trip," he started._

_"No," Cameron interrupted, shaking her head. "Thanks for letting me know."_

_There was an awkward pause, and then he cleared his throat. "Yeah," he finally said. "So, I'm gonna let you go. I know you're on your way out of town. Just wanted to let you know."_

_Standing, she moved away from the chaos and into the bathroom. Though she could hear a couple of people in the stalls, the sinks were empty and she leaned heavily against one, willing the room to stop spinning. "So this is it, huh?" With a chuckle, she pulled the corner of her lip between her forefinger and her thumb. "Do you remember being single?"_

_Ryan's laughter calmed the anxiety in her gut. "It was a little different back then," he admitted. "Bein' as I still sounded like Mickey Mouse."_

_Tears rushed to her eyes as she took in the weight of the situation. She'd been living without him for eight weeks, but now that the divorce was final, she wasn't sure how she felt. "Good luck, Ry," she whispered._

_"You, too, Cami Bear," he shot back before disconnecting the call. _

_By the time she had collected herself, boarding had already begun. There was no looking back. It was time to move forward._

"Well, if it isn't Cameron Tucker," a voice invaded her thoughts as Cameron glanced up and ran a hand over the back of her aching neck. "Or should I say Cameron 'Taker'," the blonde sneered, her over-glossed lips curling as she laughed at her own joke.

"Do I know you?" Cameron asked, trying her best to place the face.

She couldn't have been more than twenty-one, and Cameron was fairly certain that the breasts pushed up to her chin weren't natural. She was probably quite the eye candy when she wanted to be. But it was clear that, in that moment, she didn't want to be. "I'm Jordan from Jersey," she informed, causing Cameron to smirk a bit. "You'll know me when I'm kicking your ass on the big stage someday," she added, her chest puffing out just a little bit.

Rolling her eyes, Cameron took another step forward, but Jordan moved to the side, blocking the path. "Excuse me?" she asked, a slight bit of irritation creeping inter her voice. Del had warned her that things could get catty backstage at events like this, but it didn't make dealing with the girl any easier.

"Of course," Jordan went on without provocation. "You'll probably get there before me."

The tone of her voice did not sit well with Cameron, especially when she was already sore and exhausted from the first two rounds of competition. Looking the young woman over, she shrugged in agreement. "Looks that way."

With her hands on her hips, Jordan adopted a very self-important air, as though she knew so much more than her older counterpart. "That's what tends to happen when you sleep your way to the top," she spat.

Sputtering, Cameron felt her eyes bulge from their sockets. "What?!?" The mere notion that she would even consider what this child was suggesting floored Cameron.

"Does the Undertaker like it when you play dumb like that?" she asked, her blue eyes wide as she feigned innocence. "Wait, you probably don't have to call him 'Undertaker' do you? I'm sure he lets you call him 'Mark.' Or whatever disgusting pet names you have for each other."

The way she spat the accusation made Cameron ball her fists at her sides, reminding herself repeatedly not to start anything. She didn't want the bad publicity. She couldn't afford it. There were WWE representatives at the tournament, along with journalists and webmasters. The last thing she needed was to be dubbed a troublemaker before she even started with her new company.

Squaring her shoulders, she brushed past Jordan, bumping her hard enough to let her know that she should shut her mouth, but not hard enough to budge the girl. "Oh, come on," Jordan called out, hands on her hips as she spun to watch Cameron retreating. "You just gonna walk away? Like you walked away from your husband?"

Spinning on her toes, Cameron felt her face blazing. Who the hell did this little bitch think she was. "Look," she hissed, pinching her palms to keep from losing control. "I don't know who the fuck you are, and I really don't care. You don't know what the hell you're talking about, but I'm sure you don't care."

Jordan laughed cynically. "I don't?" she asked. "So you're not the reason that the fucking Undertaker just decided to show up? At an indie women's tournament? I'm sure he just loves the business so much that he couldn't sit at home and not watch something. I'm sure he just happened to be here," she baited.

Cameron knew that this girl was lookin' for a fight. Until that moment, she hadn't even seen Mark. Del had told her that he was going to try to make it, but she had been so busy since arriving in Vegas that she hadn't had a chance to notice him. If he was in the crowd during her matches, she hadn't seen, or heard, him. "Maybe you should ask him," she shot.

The hand clamped around her arm before Cameron could take another step. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" Jordan asked, her blue eyes blazing with angry hatred. "You think you're so special? You're not the first stupid whore to sleep your way into the WWE, ya know?"

Casting a glance over the top of the blond's head, Cameron noticed a few people inclining their heads to see what was going on. They weren't blatantly staring, but as far as Cameron was concerned, they might as well have been. "I'm just tryin' to do my job," she managed to growl through clenched teeth.

"And what is that?" Jordan challenged, releasing Cameron's arm and placing her hands on her hips again, as though it made her appear more intimidating. "Getting comfortable on your back and spreading your legs?" When Cameron turned once again, she huffed. "Or does he like you better on all fours? Like the bitch that you are?"

Before she even realized what she had done, Cameron was in Jordan's face, their noses nearly touching. "You wanna see why I'll make it to the big stage before you do? You wanna go, you bitter, little bitch? We'll go. I will kick your ass so bad your daddy won't recognize his precious little princess."

Jordan chuckled nervously, her eyes clouding as she placed both hands on Cameron's chest and pushed her with more strength than it appeared she would possess. "If you think you can," she spoke.

Though she wanted to tear her pixie face off of her neck, Cameron caught a glimmer of the fear in her eyes. Jordan was at least five inches shorter than Cameron, and her arms and legs were like pencils. Suddenly, beating her to a pulp didn't seem so appealing. "Ya know what?" Cameron chuckled, finally feeling like she had gained the upper hand. "Your bitch ass ain't even worth it." Turning, she began to walk away again.

The feeling of Jordan's head in the middle of her back, and the smacking of her face onto the concrete floor seemed simultaneous. By the time the younger woman had rolled Cameron onto her back, her vision was started to blur. Reacting upon instinct, she grasped the lock of blond hair dangling in her face and yanked Jordan to the side, kicking her legs in the process.

She had no idea how long they rolled along the floor, swinging their arms, pulling hair, and kicking at anything within proximity. It felt like a lifetime to Cameron by the time firm hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her away from the shrieking woman who had once again managed to find her way to the top of the heap.

"Get off me!" Cameron shouted, shaking her head and swinging her fists. "Get the fuck off me!"

Tattooed arms pinned hers at her sides as she felt his breath on her cheek. "Let it go," Mark whispered firmly into her ear, increasing the pressure on her arms until she stopped flailing. "Just let it go," he added again as he focused his eyes on the young woman being led away from them.

When Jordan was gone, Cameron twisted out of Mark's grasp and breezed past him without a word. She couldn't talk to him. She'd never met Jordan before, and somehow the woman knew about her affair with one of WWE's most prominent superstars. Word was out, and her reputation was skating downhill fast. The fight wouldn't help matters. If she even still had a job, she didn't care if she ever talked to Mark Calaway again.

-----

By the time she arrived back at the room, Cameron was fired up and ready for a fight. She knew that she should rest up before the next day, seeing as she was booked through the semi-finals of the tournament. She would have four rounds of competition in total, and she knew that her body needed the rest.

But her mind wasn't interested in slowing down. And the throbbing in her lip wouldn't stop, though she couldn't bring herself to look in the mirror. She knew that her left eye was swelling, and the thought of seeing her bruised face only made her more angry. She remembered what Mark had told her before her first match. If she didn't get the anger out, she would work stiff. And if she worked stiff, no one would want to get in the ring with her. If they did anymore.

"Fucker!" she yelled, punching the mattress with both fists as she sank to the edge of the bed. She didn't need this. She didn't need a fucking reputation.

A knock on her door drew her out of her thoughts and she resigned herself to standing. Del wouldn't let her sleep until he found out exactly why she was fighting in the halls. She figured it was better to get the conversation over with, rather than hiding from him under the guise of exhaustion. She wouldn't be sleeping for quite some time.

"Hey," Mark smiled from just beyond the threshold. "How's it goin'?"

Cameron rolled her eyes. "I don't wanna talk about it," she grunted, pushing the door shut as she retreated back into the room.

But Mark didn't care what Cameron wanted. She looked like an abuse victim, and he wasn't leaving until he knew what had driven her to attack another competitor in the hallway. Catching the door before it closed, he let himself into the room and stood before her, taking her chin between his forefinger and his thumb. "You look like shit," he chuckled.

Lowering her eyes, she cleared her throat. "Yeah," she agreed. "My initiation wasn't exactly pleasant."

Taking her hand in his, Mark pulled her to her feet. "Come here," he instructed.

Cameron tried to hold her place. "You shouldn't be here," she told him, surprised to see the hurt in his eyes when look looked back at her. "Just go," she added, pointing to the door.

Pulling her close to his body, Mark cupped Cameron's cheeks in his hands and pierced her dark eyes with his emerald stare. "Talk to me, baby," he whispered. "What happened today?"

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but she cleared her throat and sniffled them back. She would not break down. "This business is about respect, right?" she asked. He nodded, and Cameron shrugged her shoulders, stepping back from his touch. "You've got it. I have to fight for it. And apparently," she shot saracastically, wrapping her arms around her stomach tightly, "the rumor mill doesn't find sleeping my way to the top all that admirable."

Mark guffawed at the suggestion. "Sleeping your way?" he started, and then stopped laughing. "That's bull shit, Cameron," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes, wondering how he could be so dense. "Perception is reality, Mar," she started and then shook her head. "Taker," she ammended.

The sound of his ring name rolling off of her lips stung worse than her asking him to go. They had been on the verge of something. He could feel it the last time he had been to Tyler. And now she was cold, sardonic, and distant. Taking her wrist in his hand, he pulled her again toward the bathroom. "Come on," he nodded. When she followed, he took her hips in his hands and lifted her onto the bathroom counter. "That lip is brutal," he said.

Grabbing a first aid kit from under the sink, he found a swab and a packet of cream. Wetting a washcloth with warm water, he touched the tip of the rag to the corner of her mouth, watching her wince at the contact. "Hurts," she mumbled, turning her face back to him as he pushed her knees apart and stood between them.

Gently, he cradled the back of her head, touching the swab to the wound. "Don't lick it off," he instructed, returing to the kit for a bottle of peroxide. As he tended what he described as a "nasty gash" over her eye, his tongue peeked between his lips. After a long moment of awkward silence, he lowered his eyes to hers and shook his head. "You didn't get that contract because of me," he corrected. "That was all you."

Cameron couldn't fight the snort that escaped her throat, though it was followed by a tiny "ouch" as a flame of pain shot through her eye. "You sent the tape," she stated. Though no one had told her as much, Del had adamently denied it. And she knew the only way DSW would have taken a second look at her was if someone within their ranks hand-delivered it.

While he didn't deny the allegation, Mark pursed his lips and looked through the first aid kit for a bandage. "I didn't put my name on it. I just mailed it to Jody," he spoke of the owner of the territory, Jody Hamilton. "He didn't even know it was from me."

"And I'm sure everybody has his personal address," she shot, wishing to hell he would take a step back.

Instead, he gave the bandage one last caress and then rested his massive hands on her thighs. "You did this, Cameron," he assured her. "Nobody handed it to you." Resting his forehead against hers, he fought the urge to kiss her as it rushed over him violently. "You earned this, babydoll. Nobody can take that away from you."

Sighing, she leaned back and rested her head against the mirror. "You know what I'm gonna say, right?" she asked, biting her lip as she risked a glance back at his dejected face.

Recovering quickly, Mark smirked and massaged her legs. "Well, you could tell me that you just got divorced and you need some time. Or, you could tell me to this thing can't get too serious, too fast," he started to muse.

Cameron leaned forward, pressing her finger to his lips. "Stop," she warned. If he was cute, she wouldn't be able to turn him away. And she knew that she needed to turn him away. "You're right. I've earned this," she spoke softly, hoping that he could sense that she meant it. "I've busted my ass and sacrificed my marriage for it. And I'm this," she gestured with her fingers, "close to actually having it."

For the first time in his life, Mark felt like the immature one in the situation. He had been so excited to see her, had made up some garbage about a family emergency to finally see her again. When Del told him that she had filed for divorce, he had mentally counted down the days until it would all be final and he could begin properly pursuing her. But he had never stopped to think about how his status would affect her rising star. He really hadn't cared.

But as guilty as he felt for his own feelings, he was twice as impressed with Cameron for the backbone she was showing. Standing so close, he could feel the heat radiating from her. He could see her eyes close slightly when he rubbed her thighs. The hungry look in her eyes reflected her desire for him. And she was telling him to go. She was stronger than he was.

"I get it," he assured her. Brushing his thumb across her bottom lip, he smiled. "And I'm backin' off," he promised, gripping her hips and sliding her flush against him. "Tomorrow," he added with a growl, lifting her in his arms and carrying her back to the bed.

She knew it was wrong. If she was going to hold her ground, she was going to have to tell him "no" with a little more emphasis. She was going to have to show a little more self control. But as he peeled her tee shirt away from her body, she wrapped her arms around his neck and accepted his branding kiss. Tomorrow. They would let go tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I don't do a LOT of recommendations - mostly because my attention span isn't very long, and sometimes I have a hard time reading entire stories at a time. But I've been reading a lot lately, and three stories have just jumped out at me and really stuck in my mind. Some of you have probably already read them, seeing as I'm kinda slow on the draw picking them up, but if you haven't? Damn - they're worth it.**

**The Traveller by texjay - Jade is an excellent OC character, and the story is just a roller coaster of emotions, tension, and sexual intensity. And she captures Taker oh, so well. **

**Hindsight by Dreaming Egypt - Even though the story hasn't been updated in awhile, it's well worth your time. It's about Adrian fighting to deal with the fact that her husband, Taker, has cheated on her. And it's a beautiful struggle between loving and hating someone completely. **

**And my final recommendation isn't a Taker story, but a John Cena one. Body Image by shannygoat is fairly new, but it is one of the most unflinchingly honest looks at life through the eyes of a "big girl." Being one myself, I relate so thoroughly to the situations and feelings of Parker, the heroine, and I think you will, too.**

**Okay, so pimping over. And now I need to go do some writing, since I've done nothing but read for the last couple of days. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Oh, I'm so anxiously awaiting your reviews for this chapter. Enjoy!

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**

When Cameron entered the locker room before the tournament the next morning, she wasn't sure she would be able to survive an entire day of competition. Her muscles had already screamed for relief the night before, and by the time Mark had collapsed beside her, she'd been given a more strenuous work out than she ever received in the ring. She had only slept for an hour, and she was mentally exhausted from the events of the past few days. All she really wanted was to go home, but Mark had reminded her that she would feel that way a lot from now on. If she couldn't handle it, she should just pack it in before she ever started.

Moaning slightly, she lowered herself to the bench and looked around the locker room. A few girls sat near the wall, chatting quietly amongst themselves, but Cameron was perfectly happy to leave them to it. If no one else spoke to her for the rest of the trip, she would be more than happy. At least they weren't hurtling accusations at her.

She had changed into her leather skirt and was lacing up her boots when one of the girls tore herself from the group and sat next to Cameron. "You hear that little Jersey bitch got kicked out of the tournament?" she asked.

Turning her head slightly, Cameron shook her head. She was too tired to smile, but she couldn't say that she was upset by the news. "Hadn't heard that," she answered cooly, returning to her bag for a roll of tape.

"I'm Sophie," the young woman stated, extending a hand into Cameron's line of sight. When she received no response, she cracked her knuckles and leaned back until her head rested against the lockers. "Everybody knows she started the fight, so you can breathe easy," she spoke, her eyes trained straight ahead. "Don't worry about it, Kid," Sophie said, standing and patting Cameron on the back. "Jordan's just jealous. She's about the only girl in this locker room that hasn't fucked someone on the WWE roster at some point."

"Can I ask you a question?" Cameron inquired, finally raising her eyes. Sophie shrugged and popped her shoulders. "How'd she know?"

There was a chuckle as the two girls from the corner came over to stand beside their friend. "You train with, what? Five? Six other girls?" Cameron held up one hand to signify five other women. "And you're the only one with a developmental deal? Bitches talk," she explained. "Doesn't take long for a rumor to start. Taker shows up at the gym a couple more times than he used to? Maybe somebody sees him around town? Somebody saw him in Atlanta when you signed your contract. Nosies pick up on shit in different places, they network. Shit gets out. Seriously, doesn't matter if you're on the big stage or not anymore. Somebody's always watchin' you."

That thought scared Cameron more thans he was willing to admit. Sure, she knew that the scrutiny would be intense, but she figured it would be trainers, scouts, and road agents watching her. If she kept her nose clean with them, she sincerely believed that she would be okay. Now it seemed that she had to watch everything she did. "How long you been doin' this?" she asked Sophie.

Throwing her dark hair into a ponytail, Sophie shrugged her shoulders and began to bounce back and forth to loosen her muscles. "Six years," she answered. "And, yeah, I've been through it. We all have," she nodded to the girls standing behind her. "Cassie here," she pointed to the blonde girl, "tangoed with Edge a couple of times. Laura," she nodded to the brunette, "took a drunken tumble with Candice Michelle."

"And what about you?" Cameron asked, standing face-to-face with them. When the girls behind her giggled, Cameron's eyebrow shot up. "Who?"

Laura put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Sophie here has seduced no less than thre world champions," she winked. "Cena, Orton, and Batista," she counted off on her fingers.

Shaking her head, Cameron couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. "Bull shit," she spat. "There is no fucking way."

Sophie just nodded confidently. "Oh, there's a way," she assured. "Actually, with Batista, there's a lotta ways," she smirked, reaching out to pat Cameron's shoulder in reassurance. "Listen, Jordan's a bitch. Nobody likes her, and now she's gone. Let it roll," she advised. "Like water off your back, and it's all gravy."

As the three girls trotted out of the locker room, Cameron just shook her head in disbelief. Knowing that she wasn't the only one made her feel a little bit better. Knowing Jordan was out of her hair was enough to give her the energy she needed to go on with the day. Moving to the mirrored wall across from her, she turned her head to the side. Now if she could just cover the hickeys Mark had left along her collarbone, she'd be good to go.

-----

Cameron couldn't help feeling the weight of Mark's hand on her thigh as his guided his truck toward the airport. She'd have been happy to take a cab, but Del had insisted that they not waste the money when Mark had a perfectly good rental in the parking lot after the show. Though she had determined to put their psuedo-relationship behind her, the way he was making lazy circles against her jeans was about to send her over the edge.

Though he wanted to park the car and follow her to the security check point, Mark knew his chances of being noticed were greater than most people's. Pulling up to the curb, Mark stopped the truck and reached across Cameron to shake Del's hand. When his friend hopped out of the cab to wrestle with the luggage, he grabbed Cameron's wrist to keep her from scampering away. "So this is it," he sighed, running one large hand over his weathered face.

Biting her lip, Cameron nodded. She was sad to see him go, and more than a little upset at the thought of not seeing himse again for awhile. But she knew that she was making the right choice. Regaurdless of what Sophie had said in the locker room the previous day, she knew that she needed to take some time to focus solely on her career. A relationship with Mark would never work, and she couldn't deal with the drama if she was going to be a superstar.

"This is it," she finally answered, biting her lip and turning toward him. "Thanks," she smiled weakly. "For everything."

Mark just nodded, his hand finding the back of her neck again. It would be best to just send her on her way, but he couldn't resist tasting her one last time. Drawing her face to his, he sucked her bottom lip between his, savoring the feeling of her plump flesh in his mouth. When her tongue slid lazily against his, he groaned against her and gripped the steering wheel with his free hand. If he didn't break the kiss, he was going to leave Del standing at the curb and drive into the sunset with this woman he knew he was falling in love with.

When Mark tore his mouth from hers, Cameron was paralyzed. Her eyes still tightly closed, she ran her tongue along her bottom lip and moaned softly. Opening her dark orbs slowly, she reached a palm to his face and gently ran her thumb along his jaw. "Good bye, Mark," she whispered, turning to leave the truck before she couldn't.

Del led her into the airport, ushering her to the check-in line. "You did the right thing, Kid," he nudged her shoulder softly, noting that Cameron was digging her sunglasses out of her bag. She was a fighter, of that much he was sure. But he couldn't deny her struggle was breaking his heart just a bit. "He gets that," he added, as though it would be some sort of comfort.

Cameron just nodded as her cell phone rang. The area code was from Tyler, but she didn't recognize the number. Flashing it at Del, he just shrugged as she hit the button to answer the call. "Hello?"

"May I speak to Cameron Tucker, please?" the sweet voice on the other end asked.

Pulling her lip between her thumb and forefinger, Cameron leaned her hip against her suitcase. "This is Cameron," she responded, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Cameron, my name is Melissa, and I'm with Dr. Miller's office," she referenced Cameron's family doctor. "You came in for a physical last week?" she questioned.

Nodding and exhaling a sigh of relief, Cameron cleared her throat and waved a hand at Del to let him know it was okay. "Yes, I did," she assured the nurse. The day that Tom Pritchard had called to let her know that they needed a current physical on file, Cameron had headed directly for the free clinic. She was determined that nothing was going to hinder her progress once she got to Atlanta, and though she knew she was in good health, she would jump through any hoop they asked to prove it.

"Well," Melissa spoke with a cheerful smile that annoyed Cameron in her current state of mind. "Everything from your physical looks great. You're healthy as a horse, and you can pick up the results any time during office hours," she said. "There was just one thing that the doctor wanted to make sure you were aware of." When Cameron mumbled in response, Melissa giggled. "Mrs. Tucker, congratulations. You're pregnant."


	17. Chapter 17

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: I just wanted to say a quick thank you for all of your support to this point in the story. I will never be able to express in words just how much you each mean to me. And I have to warn you, since screaming my throat raw at Mania last night, I have been on a creative kick. This story has about three, maybe four, chapters left and then I have another Taker tale to start - one that smacked me in the head this morning on the way to work. **

* * *

For two days after returning to Tyler, Cameron had begged out of training and locked herself away in her bedroom at her parents' house. Though they tried to bring her back into the real world, she had ignored her mother's incessant pleas and buried herself further into the covers of her childhood bed. How she had managed to get herself into this mess, she wasn't sure.

She had always been a good girl. In high school, her friends would mock her as Church-Girl Cameron because she refused to drink or smoke the pot that they passed around. She refused to sleep with Ryan until they had been together for at least a year, and until she knew that he wanted to be with her forever. She had spent all thirteen years of school on the honor roll, and hadn't missed a single day of classes. She liked being good, liked living free from the worry that she had something to hide.

And, in the span of twelve months, it had fallen all to shit. She had gone from the girl that every mother wished her daughter could be, to the one that mothers kept their daughters away from, without even realizing the shift. She had cheated on her husband. She had given up on a decent life in pursuit of a dream that was anything but guarunteed. And she hadn't looked back, or apologized, for either. Not really. While she was sorry she had hurt Ryan, she wasn't sorry that she had met Mark.

Until that phone call from the doctor. Suddenly, everything that she had longed for, worked toward, and dreamt of for as long as she could remember was slipping between her fingers like sand. Soon, it would be gone forever. And that thought alone made her chest ache. When she started training, everyone she knew thought that she would get bored and give up. The opposite had happened, with Cameron finding her passion, the only thing she had ever wanted to give herself to completely. And it was about to be taken from her because of her own stupidity.

The thought of not wrestling, of not going to Atlanta, of not living the life she so desparately wanted, crushed her heart to the point of breaking in her chest. Breathing was difficult, and her thoughts swam through her head, never actually connecting with one another. But crying about it wasn't going to change the fact that she had fucked up. And she wasn't about to ask anyone else for help. Her mother would throw a fit if she knew what Cameron was considering. Ryan would lose his mind. And she had no idea how Del would react to the news that his star pupil was with child. It wasn't so much that she was afraid they would yell at her. But she was fairly certain she had seen enough disappointment staring back at her in the mirror - she didn't need it from them, too.

The first step in her plan had been to move out of her parents' house. Two weeks before she was set to move, she begged Del to let her crash on the couch and continue working out on a more rigorous schedule. She wanted to be booked as much as possible, claiming that she needed the edge when she headed to DSW. He had eagerly agreed to get her as much work as possible, and though Cameron knew she was a horrible person, she prayed for an injury. She prayed for a good, stiff bump. One that would "accidentally" fix her problem. Anything that would ease the guilt of the appointment that she made with the women's clinic.

To the outside world, she was the same old Cameron. She worked hard and smiled brightly to every customer that walked into the grocery store and the diner. There wasn't so much as a hint of the inner turmoil that she was struggling to quell. And as long as she stay focused, none of them would ever have to know.

The only glitch had been the nurse at the clinic telling her that she would need someone to drive her home after the procedure, that she would be far too anesthesized to operate her own vehicle. But, she had added happily, she would be back on her feet just like normal within forty-eight hours. Though Cameron somehow doubted that she would ever be the same, she had thanked the lady and made the last phone call. The obvious one. To the only person she could think to ask for help.

The slamming of Del's front door shocked her out of her dazed thoughts. "Thanks for coming," she muttered to Mark as he loomed in the doorway.

From the moment he stepped over the threshold, Mark knew something wasn't right. If he was honest, he had known from the moment she had called him that nothing was normal. The sound of her voice was strained, as though she wished she didn't need him.

_"'lo?" he grumbled in the darkness, opening one eye to glance at the hotel clock._

_"Can you help me?" Cameron's voice was barely a whisper. _

_"Cameron?" he asked through the sleep fogging his brain. "What do you need?" _

_There was a long silence, and he thought that she might have hung up. Until she sniffled and cleared her throat. "I need you to pick me up at Del's on Saturday at noon. Should only take a couple hours," she added quickly. _

_Shifting beneath his heavy covers, he closed his eyes and conjured images of her on Del's living room floor. She had been so beautiful that night. "What's wrong, babydoll?"_

_"Don't worry about it. It'll all be taken care of soon," she answered cryptically before disconnecting the call._

Rising to meet him, Cameron hitched her gym bag over her shoulder and walked past Mark, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She said nothing as she climbed into the cab of his truck and waited for him to pull out of the driveway.

They drove in silence to Dallas, the only words between them Cameron's short directions. Though he had no idea what they were doing, or why they had to drive all the way to another town to get it done, but he was growing more agitated by the second. When he finally eased the car into a parking spot beside the dirty, downtown clinic, he felt all of the air in his lungs hissing out through his teeth.

"Thanks for the ride," she said, her hand on the door handle. But Mark threw the truck into reverse before she could open the door. "What the hell are you doing?" Cameron shouted, drawing her hand back and clutching her bag as he pulled onto the street. "Mark," she warned.

But he kept driving. "Not there," he insisted, his jaw set as he made a left. The fact that she hadn't told him the truth stung, but he understood. More than she would ever know. "Ryan's?" he asked shortly.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Of course, she had known that he would figure it out when they arrived outside of the clinic. But she had expected him to grow angry and throw her out of the car. She wanted someone to hate her as much as she hated herself. She didn't need his compassionate eyes boring into her, expecting her to talk about what was going on. So she just shrugged and looked out the window.

As Mark manuevered the car through town, he tapped on the steering wheel, his mind racing with the revelation of the afternoon. More than anything, he was glad that she had called him, that she had turned to him when she needed someone. "It's mine," he stated knowingly.

"I don't know that," Cameron started.

But Mark silenced her with a hand on her thigh. "That kid is mine, Cameron," he reiterated, his jaw setting with determination. "And I'm tellin' ya right now that I would be a horrible father. I'm on the road all the time, and even when I'm home, I'm thinkin' about work. You're the same way. Our business is a part of you, and that ain't just gonna go away. Neither one of us got the time, or the patience, to raise a kid," he rambled, hoping that she would listen.

Cameron heard him loud and clear. Whether he believed the words or not, she knew that he wouldn't make a horrible father. But she also knew that he was telling her, in no uncertain terms, that he understood what she was doing, and he had no intention of stopping her. "I haven't told anyone," she muttered to the passing scenery.

Nodding, Mark withdrew his hand and chewed on the inside of his lip. She wasn't his girlfriend, his fiancee, or his wife. She was a scared little girl who wanted a life that would not accomodate a child. It wasn't the kid's fault, but the timing was all off. Maybe nobody would understand it - maybe everyone she knew would throw stones, but they didn't get the fire in Cameron's eyes when she was in the ring. They didn't see that her place was inside those ropes, not a nursery. She wasn't a mother, and forcing it on her wouldn't make her one.

He eased the car to a stop outside a high-tech looking facility and nodded toward the door. "You just tell the receptionist that you've got connections to Lisa. She's a good doctor. She'll help you out," he instructed, pointing out the window toward the building. "Tell her to call me when you're finished and I'll come back to get ya." When Cameron turned, a million questions dancing in her eyes, he only shook his head. "I helped get you into this mess, Cameron. I'll be damned if I can't help you out of it."

And with that, he was gone, leaving her to stare after him on the sidewalk. Clutching her bag, Cameron took one final look at the intimidating structure and began to move toward the entrance. If someone had told her, way back when she got married, that she would even be contemplating an abortion, she would have Superkicked them for their audacity. But even as she opened the doors and received a warm smile from the receptionist, she resigned herself to the fact that there was simply no other way.

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**A/N: Okay, so I didn't want to say anything at the beginning of the story, because I hate giving things away, but I do want to take a minute to apologize to anyone who is offended by the decision that Cameron has made regaurding the baby. Please don't confuse that with an apology for the plot choice - I am the kind of author who stands behind her work, and when I truly believe in the story that I'm telling, I refuse to back down from the controversy I may generate. The decision isn't popular, and I know that it's a polarizing issue. **

**Anyone who decides that this story is no longer for them, that they cannot support Cameron's decision by continuing to read, know that I understand that completely. **

**Rant over - I'm off to edit the next chapter!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Thanks so much for your willingness to embrace this story with an open mind and an open heart. Your words of encouragement have meant the world to me. Enjoy!

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**

For the first time in weeks, the world around Cameron seemed to be at peace. Floating was a serene sensation, the feeling of weightlessness carrying her to a tranquil place. Free from worry and doubt, her mistakes drifted out of reach, her mind void of all concerns. It was as if nothing else existed. Nothing outside of the water. Nothing beyond the surface. She couldn't be touched, or harmed, here. She couldn't be corrupted. She felt like a child, safely protected in her mother's nurturing womb.

The air stabbed through her lungs as Cameron bolted upright from sleep, clutching her chest to calm her pounding heart. Her eyes darted around the room, struggling to recognize her foreign surroundings. It wasn't home. She had never been in this place, had never seen it.

Crinkling her nose, she inhaled the musky sent of the bed in which she lay. Mark. The room smelled like Mark. Blinking into the darkness, she cast another glance around, her eyes adjusting to the lack of lighting. She reached for a framed photo on the bedside table, holding it close to her face and examining the image closely. It was definitely Mark. She was in Mark's bed. In Houston.

As her heart rate began to slow, Cameron sat the picture back on the table and laid back against the pillows. Raking her hands through her hair, she stared at the textured ceiling and wondered how long she had been there, and how long she would have to get her shit together before she had to head to McDonough.

As the sleep around her brain began to dissipate, the weight of the situation broke through her thoughts. It was done. Didn't matter if she regretted it or not, she couldn't take it back. She told herself repeatedly, while sitting in the reception area of the clinic, that she would not beat herself up about it. Once it was finished, there was no point in dwelling. She had made her decision for a reason, and there was no "reverse" on the dash. Going back was not an option.

Still, the shadows of the room illuminated her greatest insecurities. She'd had a great husband, and she had forfeited him for the possibility of a great career. She'd had a great life in Texas, and she had turned on it for the chance of a better one in Georgia. She'd had the promise of a pure life with a beautiful child, and she had sacrificed it on the altar of her career. She had taken every, single sure thing in her life, and flushed it directly down the toilet in favor of questions, dreams, and maybes.

And suddenly, it seemed like the biggest mistake she'd ever made. Great novels, movies, and plays were based on chasing dreams. Philosophers and experts advised that the only way to be truly happy was to follow one's heart and pursue one's passion. But Cameron was couldn't help wondering if the definites in life couldn't bring just as much happiness. If she had stayed with Ryan, if she'd continued working three jobs, and had the baby - would she have been happy? Could she have still been happy?

She squeezed her eyes, determined to stop the thoughts from assaulting her. _It's over, Cameron. You can't change it. You can't go back. It can't be undone. They can't put the damn kid back in. You don't want 'em to. You did the right fucking thing. Stop fucking think about it and accept that you did what you had to do, dammit. You did the right fucking thing. _Grabbing the pillow at her side, she stuffed it over her face to stop the onslaught of emotions.

And immediately breathed deeply the smell that had etched itself into every corner of her brain. With a gutteral scream, she sat and flung the pillow across the room, flinching when it bounced off of the large mirror, and knocked a candlestick from the top of the vanity. It hit the hardwood floor with a clatter and the sound surprised her a bit. Jumping, she swung her feet to the floor, intent on escaping as quickly as she could. Maybe she could just call Del to come pick her up. Or she would take a bus. Anything to get her out of that house, away from the man she needed to put behind her.

But the moment she stood, Cameron felt the bile rising in her throat. Whether it was the anasthesia still working it's way out of her system, or a natural reaction to her racing thoughts, she found herself sinking back to the mattress and leaning her elbows on her knees, the vomit erupting before she could stop it. Her first thought when things felt out of her own control was to hit the gym, but her body was drained and her stomach felt like it was on fire. She couldn't even stand, let alone press or squat.

Though she warned herself not to repeatedly, Cameron couldn't stop the sobs that racked her body as the exhaustion and the full weight of realization washed over her. Curling into a ball on the bed, she hugged herself and buried as far into the blankets as she could. The tears made her angry, but there was nothing she could do. Nothing but sit and wait for the pain, both in her abdomen and her soul, to fade.

-----

"I think she woke up once," Mark spoke into the phone, his hand running through his long locks as he paced the living room of his Houston ranch. "I heard a scream and some shit gettin' thrown around," he said. With a knowing chuckle, he began to climb the stairs, daring to approach his bedroom for the first time since depositing Cameron there five hours earlier. "I'm checkin' on her now. . . yeah, I'll talk to you later. Thanks again."

Even when his hips were acting up, or he was seriously injured, Mark didn't think that his stairs had ever felt so long. He had no way of knowing what he would encounter upon entering the room, but the clattering sounds of objects crashing to the floor had been enough to tell him she wasn't her normal, happy-go-lucky self. Not for the first time in his life, he was grateful for being built like a brick wall.

Pushing the door open, he glanced inside carefully. The drapes had been thrown open, and Cameron was tucked in the window seat, watching the land behind his home. Leaning in the doorway, he watched her carefully, wavering between speaking and studying.

"Can I ask you a question?" Cameron's voice sounded, acknowledging him before he could reveal his presence. "How many times have you done this?"

Her inquiry threw him and Mark found his stance waivering just a bit. "Done what?" he asked dumbly.

Cameron rolled her eyes and turned in her seat, her knees hugged to her chest. "This," she motioned to herself. "Knocked some chick up and sent her off to your good friend, Lisa?" She knew that her words sounded harsh, but her thoughts hadn't stopped since she had woken up, and she found that she needed answers.

"Counting you?" Mark asked, running his hands over his jeans as he entered the room and lowered himself to the mattress of his platform bed. "One."

"Bull shit," Cameron spat, shaking her head in disbelief. When Mark appeared shocked by her outburst, she huffed. "I'm the only one, yet you know exactly how to get me to a pristine clinic run by a doctor you're on a first-name basis with?" she accused, her eyes cold and empty.

Heaving a sigh, Mark thought about how to best answer her question. He had known, from the moment he had dropped her off in front of the clinic, that she would have questions. But that didn't make the answers any easier to give. "Lisa is my ex-wife, Cameron," he admitted, his head hanging as though awaiting her wrath. When she said nothing, he knew he would have to share further. "She was half-way through her residency when we got married, studying to be an OBGYN.

"My traveling didn't really bother her, since she was workin' a hundred hours a week anyway. She finished her residency at the start of the Attitude Era," Mark explained. "I was on top of the world, and she was so driven that it didn't matter that we rarely saw each other. She understood that I had a passion for something, and she was supportive.

"About six years into our marriage, she got pregnant. It was bound to happen, seeing as I didn't come home very much. When I did, we went at it all the time." Glancing up to see her reaction, Mark's heart sank when Cameron continued staring at the floor. Was he making a mistake in telling her this particular story? Did it even matter? _I should just keep my mouth shut._

The silence overwhelmed Cameron. Though she wasn't sure she wanted to hear about the demise of his marriage, but just the rumbling sound of his voice was calming her in explicable ways. "She aborted," she finally spoke when it became clear that he wasn't going to finish.

Mark nodded his head and turned his body toward Cameron. "When she found out she was pregnant, she decided that she wanted to cut back on her hours and settle down. She wanted me to be home more often. 'Cording to her, that's what a family was." Shaking his head, he huffed. "I got a temper, babydoll," he confessed. "Said some shit I ain't proud of. Let her know I wasn't interested in slowin' down for nothin', includin' her or a baby.

"I didn't ask her to do it. Tell ya the truth, I woulda come around eventually. I was just blowin' off steam. But she got it in her head that I hated her for gettin' pregnant. She had it done in a dirt mall like the one you tried to go to," he explained, staring at her until she raised her gaze to his. "Time I got home, she was balled up on the couch. 'Bout a week after the surgery, she started bleedin' like crazy. I took her to the ER, but it was too late," he shook his head. "They had to do a complete hysterectomy to stop the bleeding."

Cameron's heart leapt into her throat. "Shit," she breathed, shaking her head slowly. "So she started her own clinic?

Clearing his throat, Mark shoved the memory to the back of his mind and nodded. "Yeah," he finally managed to say. "Took her a long damn time to get up outta the bed, to make it through a day without cryin'. But when she did, she was bound and determined not to let that shit happen to nobody else," he explained.

Again, the tense silence settled between them, neither sure of what to say next. Lowering her feet to the floor, Cameron moved to the bed and crawled under the covers, leaning against the headboard to look at Mark. If she was honest with herself, she didn't know him all that well. Oh, she knew everything there was to know about The Undertaker, but Mark Calaway was a riddle wrapped in an enigma. All of the determination she had exhibited in pushing him away seemed futile as her head ached for more knowledge of the man.

Mark just sat, staring at the bed. It had been a long time since he had talked to anyone about Lisa. As soon as he had figured out why Cameron had called him, he'd known she was the only one to perform the procedure. But he also knew that either of them knowing the truth about the other's identity was a bad idea. He knew the decision was Cameron's alone, and he didn't want Lisa to offer her own, personal take on why wrestling wasn't worth the sacrifice.

"That why you guys got divorced?" Cameron finally asked.

Shaking his head, Mark ran a hand over his face and looked over. "For the most part," he admitted. "It wasn't until four years later, but I was never gonna be the man she wanted me to be after that."

Shifting her leg under the covers, she touched his thigh through the barriers separating them. "So is that why you didn't come in with me earlier?" She didn't want him to know how much it had bothered her, how alone she had felt sitting there in the waiting room, but she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "You didn't want to see her again?"

Standing, Mark walked to the side of the bed and slid his boots off before sitting on top of the covers beside her. "We actually have a pretty civil relationship. Instead of alimony, I just paid for the clinic in Dallas, and she doesn't ask for anything else. We talk once in awhile," he admitted, folding his hands against his stomach. "I just didn't want to make you any more uncomfortable," he said.

Without realizing what she had done, Cameron leaned her head to the side and rested it on Mark's shoulder. "You're here now," she whispered, reaching for his hand. It was dangerous territory, and she knew that nothing had really changed between them. She was still going to be leaving in a few weeks to start a new career, and he was still going to be travelling the world. But for the moment, she just wanted to know that somebody was there.

Releasing her hand, Mark wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled Cameron close to his chest. "I'm not goin' anywhere, babydoll," he promised, dipping his face to press a kiss to the top of her head. "For as long as you need me."


	19. Chapter 19

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: Okay, guys, it kinda snuck up on me, but this is the second-to-last chapter of Make Me Believe. The intention of this story has always been to follow Cameron through the process of deciding what was best for her life, through the agonizing decision to take that leap of faith and follow through with her dream. I always intended to end it just before she left for DSW - but there will be an epilogue. Enjoy!

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The gym in the basement of Mark's house was something straight out of Rocky. The floor, walls, and ceilings were solid concrete. The equipment, ancient and worn from years of use. The only item in the room that appeared of the current century was the elaborate stereo on the far wall, blasting Black Sabbath as Mark threw his shoulder into every punch of the bag in the center of the room. The straining of his muscles and the aching of his joints told him he had been at it too long, but the onslaught of emotions assaulting his mind would not let him stop.

The day after Cameron's surgery, he had been expected back on the road for three days. Though he hated the idea of leaving her alone, she had insisted that he finish up the mini-tour. This was their life. It was what they had chosen. Nothing held them back from pursuing it with reckless abandon. Nothing.

But that didn't stop him from thinking about it constantly. When he promised her that he would be there for as long as she needed him, his meaning had been deeper than their current situation. He had put himself out there for her, and she had yet to acknowledge the gesture. She had yet to express any desire to resume their relationship. He was going to have to take her back to Dallas, and she had yet to give him any solid reason to believe they would get through their recent situation as a couple.

The thing that pissed him off the most was the fact that it bothered him. After his divorce, he had convinced himself that he didn't need another relationship. Lisa had been the one to point out that Mark was married to his work, and any woman who came along would only be a mistress. It seemed an appropriate analogy, and one that he was more than happy to embrace. He was self-sufficient. An island. He didn't need anything or anybody.

Throwing another punch, he winced. "You're gonna hurt yourself if you don't relax your shoulders," a soft voice warned from the doorway of the gym.

Mark turned toward Cameron, rolling his eyes as she used his own words against him. Tightening the bandana around his head, he moved to the free weights and began to lift. "Didn't hear you come in," he managed to grunt between reps.

"I'm stealthy like that," Cameron winked, pushing off the door frame and heading for the treadmill. Though she had just taken her first run in more than a week, there was too much pent-up agression racing through her system.

They worked out in awkward silence, shooting furtive glances when the other wasn't looking. Standing from his place, Mark finally moved to the treadmill and stopped the machine, rolling his eyes when Cameron glared at him. "It's your first day back in the game," he reminded. "Don't push yourself too hard." Nodding over his shoulder, he headed for the stairs. "Come on. I'll make breakfast."

Following wordlessly, Cameron watched the muscles in his back roll beneath his taut flesh, hidden only by the thin fabric of his white tank top. Though their short time together had been strictly platonic, she couldn't deny that falling asleep, and waking up, in his broad arms brought a security that she needed. Just knowing he was there was enough. For her.

As Mark began frying bacon at the stove, Cameron hoisted herself onto one of the barstools at the counter. Leaning on her arm, she sipped her bottle of water and thought about the tension between them. She didn't know if he was trying to be subtle, but it was obvious to her that he wanted more. It had been her idea to break off their relationship, and Mark had agreed to give her space. He never said he wanted it to end. Maybe she was thinking too much of herself, or the brief encounters they had shared, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was waiting for her to take him back.

"You sleep okay?" Mark asked when he presented a plate of toast and a poached egg to his houseguest.

Swallowing a gulp of the orange juice he provided, Cameron nodded. "When you weren't kickin' my shins, yeah," she smiled softly.

He couldn't fight the blush that started at the base of his neck and worked it's way into his cheeks. "Guess I'm not used to sharin' a bed," he admitted, stuffing a sausage link into his mouth. "Sorry," he grumbled as an afterthought.

Another moment. Another suffocating moment of tension. "So," Cameron interjected suddenly, "We gonna talk about it, or what?"

"Talk about what?" Mark asked.

"The fact that you've had nightmares every night that we've spent here together? Or are we just gonna keep pretending everything's okay?"

Shaking his head, Mark pushed his plate away and ran his hand over the top of his head. "Nothing is okay, Cameron," he admitted before he could stop himself. "Dammit." He could control his emotions. He always had. He didn't have to let them out.

"Mark," she whispered, pushing back from the counter to study him carefully. He was trying so hard to force it down, his fists clenched on the counter between them. "If things were different . . . I wish they were," she started.

But he just laughed and shook his head, turning his back before she could see the frustrated tear forcing its way out of his eye. "No, you don't," he corrected. "I don't. You did the right thing," he added, unsure if he was trying to convince himself, or her.

"Did I?" she asked, her voice low and vulnerable. "Did I do the right thing?" When he didn't respond, she smacked the top of the counter. "Dammit, Mark, I need you!" When he raised his head, she saw his back rise as he inhaled deeply. "I need you to open up to me. I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me that it's going to be alright!"

Spinning on his heels, he braced himself against the sink and glowered. "You wanna know it's gonna be alright? That you're gonna get so carried away with your career that you're never gonna think about what you did? You're gonna feel guilty for a couple weeks and then go on your merry way? Is that what you want me to tell you?" She looked shocked at his outburst, but Mark didn't care. He'd been bottling for two long. The explosion was inevitable. "Because you're gonna think about it every fucking day of your life. You're going to wonder if the kid looked like you. If his eyes were green or if he would have had red hair. You're gonna wonder if he would be as into the business as you are by now.

"Your gonna wonder if he would like you. If he would understand the decisions that you've made. And you're gonna question yourself," he spat. "Was it worth it? Was the cost worth it? How many chances do you get before you're a lost cause? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why does every fucking person you actually let yourself care about push you away?" Slamming his fist through the cabinet above his head, he let out a primal roar of rage.

She wished like hell that she could think of something to say as Mark leaned against the sink and swore under his breath. She wanted to comfort him, but what could she say? What words would ease the pain he'd obviously held back for longer than anyone could have suspected?

As if moving of their own volition, Cameron felt her legs propelling her in his direction. Standing before him, she took his large hand and pressed her lips to his bruised knuckles. "Listen to me," she whispered, watching him closely until he met her eyes. "The only reason that we are not together, Mark? The ONLY reason is because of our careers. Because I can promise you this," she smiled slightly and ran her palm over his rouch cheek. "If it weren't for that . . ."

Mark took deep breaths, attempting to calm his racing heart. His rant had taken more out of him than he would ever let her know, physically and emotionally. He had friends and family, people that were fairly close to his inner circle. But none of them had ever seen the inner turmoil. He wasn't the guy that shared his emotions, and he wasn't going to be. It was a fluke, and now he wasn't sure if he was touched by her words, or embarrassed by his own.

"If it weren't for that," he repeated. With a scoff, he shrugged her off and walked out the back door. He had to get away, had to distance himself from the things she was making him feel. He didn't want to fall in love with her, but he had. He should have known better, but he had done it anyway. The repercussions were his to deal with, but he didn't have to do it in her presence.

-----

Though she wanted to crawl back into the bed and pull the covers up to her neck, Cameron knew that she had to get back to Tyler. She was moving to McDonough in a week, and she needed all of that time to train. She couldn't show up in Georgia underprepared. The pain in her abdomen was virtually gone, and she could work through the ache in her heart. It would take some time, but she would get over it, just like she had everything else in her life.

Four hours after Mark had left her in the kitchen, she was sitting on the front porch with her duffle bag at her feet. As soon as he got back, she would ask him to drive her home, or to the bus station. How she got back, she didn't care. But she knew that she couldn't stay there with him for another second. She had already spent the week wondering if they could somehow make a relationship work, and it was beginning to mess with her mind. She had to focus. There would be time for distractions later.

The sound of Mark's heavy steps on the porch drew Cameron out of her thoughts. "I'm ready to go home," she said softly.

Nodding, Mark walked into the house, grabbed his keys, and locked the door behind him. "Let's go."

For the first hour of the trip, neither said anything, only allowed the sounds of the local country station to surround them. Until a song stopped Cameron's heart in her chest. Reaching forward, she cranked the volume, hoping that Mark would understand the meaning of it. She had listened to Sugarland's "Just Might (Make Me Believe)" at least a thousand times in the last couple of months, allowing the rich sounds of Jennifer Nettles's voice lull her into comforting tears over the man that she had tried so hard not to love. In her mind, it was their song. It didn't matter that he didn't know that.

_I've got miles of trouble, stretching far and wide. Bills on the table, gettin' higher and higher. They just keep on comin', there ain't no end in sight. I'm just holdin' on tight._ Mark's jaw was tightly set as he maneuvered the vehicle onto the off-ramp of the highway, connecting to the next road that would take Cameron home. And out of his life. Again. _I got someone who loves me more than words can say, and I'm thankful for that each and every day. If I count all my blessings, I get a smile on my face. Still, it's hard to find faith._

Turning her face toward his, Cameron reached slowly to the side and covered his large hand with hers against the steering wheel. _But if you can look in my eyes and tell me we'll be alright. If you promise never to leave, you just might make me believe. _For all of the talk she had been doing, all she really wanted was for him to turn his head, to give her that one look that said they could make it. She wanted him to make her believe that she was wrong about them.

_It's just day to day, tryin' to make ends meet. What I'd give for an address out on easy street. I need a deep margaurita to help me unwind, to leave my troubles behind._ Fighting the cynical chuckle that was rising in his throat, Mark rested his elbow in the open window of his truck and ran his fingers numbly over the hair on his chin. When she moved her hand from the steering wheel to his thigh, scooting closer, he forced back the urge to pull over and shove her out of the truck. He wasn't a stupid man. He knew what she was telling him. _But if you can look in my eyes and tell me we'll be alright, if you promise never to leave, you just might make me believe. _He just wasn't sure he could respond.

Cameron rested her head against Mark's shoulder and exhaled. When he veered off at the next rest stop, she felt her heart rate accelerate. "What's goin' on?" she asked softly.

When he had parked the truck, he stepped out and walked to her side of the vehicle. Opening the door, he held out a hand. Cameron jumped out of the truck and followed as he wordlessly led her to a secluded picnic table behind the main building. When she was situated on top of the table, Mark rested his hands on his hips and ran a hand over the bandana on his head. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"Huh?"

"You want me. You don't want me. You want me, but you can't be with me." With an exasperated sigh, he shook his head. "All morning, I walked around, realizin' that you're right. Things aren't different, Cameron. They're not gonna be." Jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, he motioned toward the truck. "Now it's like you want me again, and I just wanna know what the fuck is goin' on in your head."

Licking her lips, Cameron stared up at him with wide eyes, as though trying her best to come up with the right answer. "You're about to pinch the bridge of your nose," she said timidly as Mark raised his hand to his face and did exactly as she predicted. "And, behind those sunglasses, you're rollin' your eyes at me right now," she said. "You want, more than anything, to sit down over here, but you won't, because you're trying to prove a point."

"What?" Mark asked, his voice edged with frustration. He wasn't one for talking about his feelings, and now that he was ready to discuss, he sure as hell didn't want to be playing stupid games.

"You always pinch the bridge of your nose when you're annoyed," she explained. "And whenever I'm right about something, but you don't want to admit that I'm right, you roll your eyes. And," she patted the table beside her, "you're breathin' heavy, through your teeth. You always do that when your hips hurt. You shift your weight," she motioned to his waist as he did exactly what she said, "when you don't want to admit that it's killin' ya."

The smile of pride on her lips caused Mark to release a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, moving slowly to her side and lowering himself to the table top.

Turning her body toward him, Cameron tucked her leg under her body and wrapped her hands around his bicep. "I did some thinking this afternoon, too," she said. "For months, I've told myself that we barely know each other. That what we had was a fling, and that I can't possibly be falling in love with you.

"But when you got in the truck, I realized that I couldn't wait to see that smile," she rested her chin on his shoulder as he watched his hands. "Because you always turn the key and gun the engine. And then you smile like a little boy when you hear it roar." Running her finger down the side of his cheek, she licked her lips once more and shook her head. "For the last fifteen years, The Undertaker has intrigued me. But in the last year? You, Mark, have fascinated me. It doesn't matter if you're talking, or laughing, or just sitting there staring at me. I just wanna know more about you. I wanna be around you.

"I tell myself that we've only been together a few times, that I don't know enough about you to love you." Pushing away from him, she stood from her place and moved to stand before him. With her hands on his knees, she opened his legs and stood between them. "But I watch you. I study you. I know you," she smiled shyly when his eyes met hers. "Not as well as I could, I know. But I want to." With her hands on his cheeks, she rested her forehead against his. "I want to be with you."

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth and looked into her dark eyes. Every nerve ending in his body was screaming for him to take her and kiss her. Every desire in his chest demanded he lay her out on the table and do everything that he had been thinking of doing to her for the last week. But his pride wouldn't let go of the circles that she had been running him around since Vegas.

Standing, he patted her shoulder and headed back toward the truck. As far as Mark was concerned, he had spoken enough for the time being. And if he had learned anything from the conversations of the day, it was that Cameron had a way of wiggling inside of his defenses and making him confess things he had no interest in sharing. He'd had enough of that "speaking without thinking" nonsense for awhile.

For the duration of the ride home, Cameron twisted her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, staring out the window and fighting back tears. She had put herself on the line, sure that he would welcome her back into his life with open arms. Instead, he had clammed up completely, refusing to so much as grunt as he focused solely on the road before him.

The afternoon sun was just beginning to dip in the sky when Mark eased his truck into the driveway at Del's house. Cameron gripped the handle of the truck, hesitating as she considered the least awkward way to make her graceful escape. Turning toward him, she held tightly to her duffle bag and turned her head to the side. "I'll see ya," she started.

With a firm hand on the back of her neck, Mark pulled Cameron across the seat, branding her lips with a seering kiss. She gasped against his mouth, and then moaned when he gently ran his tongue over her bottom lip. His thumb traced the outline of her ear and her body immediately felt like jelly. When Mark pulled away, the only sounds in the idling vehicle were the purr of the engine, and the gasping of their heavy breathing.

"I'll meet you in McDonough on Saturday. You're gonna need help with your furniture."


	20. Chapter 20

**Make Me Believe**

**A/N: So I actually forgot that I had promised y'all an epilogue to this story way back awhile ago. Fortunately, someone is very good at persistent reminders. Enjoy!**

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"Jesus! A girl goes away for a few months, and the whole place goes to shit. Where the hell is the owner of this rat trap?" 

Del's eyes snapped to the door at the insults being hurled around his gym. The voice was unmistakable, though it had been more than a year since Cameron had darkened his doorway. "Maybe if a girl remembered where she came from, and did a little somethin' to give back once in awhile, the place wouldn't go to shit, huh?"

With a laugh, she shoveled her hand through her thick hair and leapt toward her former coach, her arms wrapped tightly around his muscular neck. "You look good, man," she laughed when he lifted her feet from the ground and sat her back down again.

Nodding, the older man stepped back and looked over his charge. She was the same old Cameron, in a lot of ways. Her body had been slimmed and toned as a result of daily workouts, and her hair seemed more red in the flourescent lighting, but her eyes still sparkled with more pent-up enthusiasm than she could possibly contain.

"So what brings you home?" he finally asked, casing a glance over her shoulder. "You bring the boyfriend with you?"

Cameron bit her lip and shook her head. Her relationship with Mark had been slow-going, but it was working so well that neither of them questioned it. Cameron worked in Atlanta, while Mark traveled the world and visited her when he got a chance. It wasn't ideal, but they spoke almost daily on the phone, and the fact that they each understood the other's drive, and schedule, made it easier to accept that they rarely spent more than two days together at a time.

When she said nothing else, Del nodded over his shoulder, toward his office. "This isn't a social call, is it?"

Cameron cleared her throat and stepped past him, lowering herself into a folding chair while he closed the door and then took his place behind the desk. "I had a meeting with Stephanie McMahon yesterday," she smiled, her hands folded over her flat stomach.

The trainer sat back in his chair, his hands folded behind his head as he stared down his nose at the young woman sitting before him. It had been her dream, for as long as he had known her. Getting the call up, the meeting that would change everything. Knowing once and for all that she was as good as she always hoped she could be. And yet, Cameron's eyes clouded with indecision. It wasn't the first time he had been her go-to guy, the one she turned to when she couldn't talk to Mark, or her new trainers, or anyone in her family. At first, it had bothered him that she only seemed to call when she had some crisis. But sitting face-to-face with her once more, he knew he would gladly be Cameron's fall-back guy for as long as she needed him.

"And?" Del asked finally.

Cameron couldn't fight the smile that danced on the corners of her lips. This was why she came to Del, why he was one of her dearest friends, no matter how little they saw each other. He got to the point, and he didn't placate her. He didn't have time, or patience, for small talk. Not when he had other girls just like her waiting to be trained.

"They wanna offer me a deal – bring me in with a new tag team at first, and then work me into the women's division within six months," she explained just as Stephanie had explained it to her. "But divas are supposed to appear available, unless otherwise attached to someone through kayfabe," she went on, watching Del nod slowly.

Though the words were hanging on the tip of her tongue, Cameron couldn't make herself say them out loud. She couldn't force herself to admit that she even had to think about this decision. She was scared that Del would look at her as Stephanie had, that he wouldn't understand.

When she didn't go on, Del leaned forward, resting his folded hands on his desk. "And too many people know about your relationship with Mark already," he concluded. When she looked at her legs, he shook his head. "So your deal is contingent on you ending your relationship with Mark, or hiding it very well, I would expect?" She nodded so subtly that he barely saw it. "Are people really that interested in it?"

Cameron shrugged. "It's an internet age, Del. Just because you don't read the insider sites, doesn't mean people aren't writing things. And we've never tried to hide our relationship from our co-workers, or his fans. Even the people who come to see me know that he's my boyfriend. It's just common knowledge at this point – whether it's talked about or not, it's known."

"And the fact that your boyfriend is the biggest, scariest guy on the roster doesn't really make you all that accessible to the male fans, I wouldn't think," he filled in the blanks that she seemed all-to-willing to leave open.

Cameron nodded. "According to Stephanie, nobody's gonna wanna pose for a picture hugging Taker's girl – especially not if he's anywhere in the vicinity. They have this image of him as the guy who's all 'what's mine is mine, and if you touch it, I'll break your fingers,'" she rolled her eyes. "I tried to laugh it off, cause you and I both know Mark's not gonna give a fuck if some kid hugs me in a picture, but she wasn't havin' it." With a deep sigh, Cameron shook her head and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. "Perception is reality, I guess."

"How long do you have to decide?" Del asked finally. Obviously, asking her what she was going to do was stupid – she wouldn't have been sitting across from him if she knew. Asking if she had talked to Mark about it was also pointless. Again, because she wouldn't have been there otherwise.

Cameron sat up straighter and flipped her long hair over her shoulders. "A week," she answered, mimicking Del's pose against the edge of the desk. "I sacrificed an eight-year marriage to get to this point, Del," she reminded him. "Why am I having trouble deciding between my ultimate dream and a man I've barely seen in the last year as it is?"

He knew the answer, but she would scoff if he said it aloud. "You tell me."

Throwing her arms up, she huffed at the statement. "Two weeks ago, Mark and I talked about our future together," she admitted, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she hesitated, wondering if Del was going to think she was a ridiculous little girl. "We both decided that we were gonna walk away in two years. I'll be thirty, he'll be forty-five. We'll both still be young enough to enjoy a couple years, and then decide if we're going to settle and try to have kids or whatever."

She left the statement hanging, and Del knew well enough to know why. "But that was before you got the offer," he finished. "When you thought you'd be in the indies forever." She just nodded. "When you came to me two years ago, when you wanted to start training, what was your ultimate goal?"

"Haven't we been over that a thousand times, Del?" she asked, her voice tinged with a faint, girlish whine. "I wanted to be a wrestler. I wanted to see if I could do it. If I could succeed in this business that I love."

He shrugged. "If I remember correctly, you never planned to get to the big stage, never really cared if you did or not. You just wanted to wrestle." Her face held no expression as Del shrugged his shoulders and leaned back. "If your goal has changed, that's fine. Nothin' wrong with dreaming higher, Cami," he assured her. "But there's somethin' wrong with not learning from past lessons. You're right back here, ready to sacrifice what you want for what you think you're supposed to want – just like you were before you left."

She wanted to protest, to jump out of her chair and storm out of the office. But Del was right. Before, she had wanted to pursue the career of her dreams, but felt a sense of duty to the life, and the marriage, that had become comfortable. Now she was being asked to choose between the man of her dreams and the career that had become second nature. Previous experience would tell her to follow her heart, to tell Stephanie where to stick her offer, and just keep working in the indies for as long as she could.

But she couldn't reconcile it with the section of her brain that kept asking her "what if." What if she could become Women's Champion? What if she could become a fan favorite? What if she could become respected internationally? What if she was passing the opportunity of a lifetime for a relationship with a man who had yet to make any real, lasting commitment to her.

Sure, they had talked about it. They talked all the time about their future, and about what they would do when he was finished wrestling, when they were both finished. But there was no invitation, no proposal, not real commitment. There was nothing holding them to each other. Nothing more than an attraction, and a growing connection of friendship. Was it enough to sacrifice all of the "what if's" for? Would she regret it someday?

"What's the real problem, Cami?" Del's words interrupted her thoughts.

The real problem was too much to voice. It was weak, and it was girlish, and it would make her cry. She didn't cry. Not anymore. It never solved anything. It was pointless. Of course, Del never cared if the truth made her cry. He just wanted her to stop running from it, to face it head on so she could attack it, gain the upper ground, and defeat her fears.

"I'm afraid," she admitted, twisting her fingers together as she slumped back in her chair and stared at the floor. "If I decide to turn down the offer, he's gonna think I just did it for him, and he's gonna get pissed."

Feeling no need to discuss the issue any further, Del pushed the phone on his desk toward his star pupil. "Call him," he instructed, leaving the room before she could argue.

Cameron's fingers trembled as she pressed the numbers on the phone, dialing his cell phone and praying that he wouldn't recognize the number, and therefore wouldn't answer. When the ringing stopped and she heard his throat clear, she nearly dropped the phone.

"Haven't talked to you in awhile, Man," he answered.

Of course he knew the number to the gym. Of course he would think it was Del. And Cameron was tempted to let him go right on thinking it. He would call back, and Del could answer as to why he was pranking his old friend. Of course, Del would sell her out in a heartbeat.

"It's not Del," she finally whispered. "It's me."

There was silence on the other end for a moment, as Mark tried to place the voice he hadn't been expecting. "Cameron?" She mumbled her affirmation. "What the hell are you doin' there? Why you callin' on Del's phone?"

Hopping onto the top of the desk, she pulled her legs up Indian-style and began to explain her previous day's meeting. When she had shared the story, she heaved a sigh. "I know you're going to think it's silly, but I'm just not sure what to do."

"So do you wanna know what I think?" Mark asked, the sounds of him shifting and settling into a chair evident to Cameron even over the phone.

Nibbling on the nail of her pinkie finger, she stared at a picture of the couple, with Del, on the corner of her friend's desk. "Are you gonna yell at me?"

He chuckled slightly, his head falling back against the chair as he tried to process everything she was tellin' him. "I could," he admitted. "For runnin' all the way to Texas 'stead of callin' me first." Grabbing his wallet from the hotel table, he opened the front flap and stared at the smiling, sweaty face of his girlfriend in the basement gym of his Houston home.

It didn't seem to matter how frustrated he got with her, Mark knew he couldn't stay mad. Not at Cameron. He'd had girlfriends and wives, but none of them had ever affected him the way she did. She got him in a way he never expected anyone to, and she put him in his place – they were too busy to take shit from each other, and they both understood that. Because they were both in the same business, they were equally busy.

Moving to the big stage was a dream come true for a girl like Cameron. It was the one thing that most of them aspired to, and that would make her the most money, and earn her the most exposure. On the surface, it was the best move, and they both knew it.

"I don't want ya to take it," he shook his head, speaking after a long silence. "I mean, I know its not my place to tell ya that, but it's just my opinion."

Cameron sat on the desk, staring dumbly at the wall. He DIDN'T want her to take it? The brass ring was within her reach and he didn't want her to have it? Was this her boyfriend? Had she gotten the right Mark Calaway? Maybe she had misdialed. "I don't understand," she muttered in confusion.

"You're sexy as hell, Cameron. But you aren't a Diva. You're more than that sexy-ass body of yours," he explained. "You deserve more respect than you'd get up here. And you keep gettin' better, but there's no competition for you up here. There's literally nothing for you to do 'cept run around in your underwear."

Cameron couldn't help smiling at his description. She knew that he liked the Divas alright, he just didn't understand their purpose in the company. Or he did understand it, rather, and didn't think it was all that necessary. But she had never considered that he flat out wouldn't want her to be one of them. "Mark," she started.

"Hold on. Hear me out," he commanded. He could see her grin in his mind's eye, and he knew she was about to tell him that he was being a silly, possessive boyfriend. "You can do it if you want, baby. You know I'm not gonna tell ya not to.

"But I know what it's like to sacrifice relationships for a career. You spend your time makin' a lot of great memories, but all those stories and pictures and videos ain't worth shit if you don't have someone to laugh about 'em with." Clearing his throat, he fought off a round of emotion he hadn't been expecting.

Cameron took in his words and remembered a time when she had sat outside her house with him, before she had been divorced, before she knew this larger-than-life man. She remembered him telling her that he wouldn't sacrifice his career for anything, and especially not for anyone. Now he was telling her that he thought she should do just that.

Shaking her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. "Okay, so break this down for me. You DON'T want me to take the offer because you want me to wrestle girls who are actually good, and because you don't the world to see me in my underwear?"

When he laughed, Cameron couldn't help the butterflies that fluttered to life in her tummy. There was something about that rolling timber that turned her to a puddle every time. "Look, you sign this deal, and if history repeats itself, you've got maybe five years on your contract. Maybe. And by that time you'll be thirty-three, too old for Vince and Stephanie's taste, and out on your ass. Maybe you go back to the indies, or maybe you start wishin' you had the family you always say you don't care about."

His words washed over her and the weight of reality began to sink in. "So I spend five years being somebody else's tits and ass, or I take the next two, like we talked about, and I finish my career my way. We retire together," she sighed and asked the hardest question of all. "Then what?"

Mark's large arms rose and fell with a sigh. "Then we decide where we're gonna live, and we start doin' this thing the way it's supposed to be done. We figure out if we can stand each other for more than a weekend at a time, and then see where it goes from there." Standing from his chair, he began to pace the hotel room, his eyes fixated on the beige walls as he raked his fingers through his dark locks. "Kinda like to try to have a kid at some point."

"With me?" The question popped out before she had a chance to stop it. Sliding off of the desk top, Cameron smacked her forehead with the heel of her head. "I mean," she started to correct herself, but his laughter overpowered her thoughts. "Um, I'm sorry. Kids are just a big commitment, and since we haven't really," she started again.

Mark cleared his throat. "Look, Cameron, I don't know what's gonna happen, okay? I don't know how this thing ends. But I know that right now, whenever I think about my life after, you're a part of it." He had never been so glad to be talking on the phone, not in person. If she had seen the blush creeping over his cheeks, he wasn't sure his ego could have taken the teasing she would have delivered.

She could have giggled like a school girl and danced around the office, but the clear window overlooking the gym kept her in her place. "Alright. So I need to call Stephanie." She brushed her hands on her jeans and raked her fingers through her hair again. "I will call you when I get back to Atlanta."

After another ten seconds of good byes, Cameron dropped the phone back onto the cradle and allowed herself to laugh. She was turning out a money-making contract, and a chance at a much wider fan base. She was rejecting the chance to step into the very ring that had introduced her to her passion so many years ago. She was stepping away from everything that she grew up thinking that she wanted.

But she had been wrong. It had never been about the money, or the fame. Not for Cameron. It hadn't even really been about the wrestling, or any kind of career, at all. It had been about pursuing something that she loved, and figuring out if she had the drive, and the ability, to be successful.

While she knew she wasn't ready to let it go just yet, she would be when the time came. And she would be equally excited to apply the same grit and determination to the next set of challenges awaiting her outside of the ring. Because, as Mark was slowly helping her realize, life wasn't about aspiring toward some predetermined path toward the ultimate prize. Contentment came from determining her own reward and appreciating it once it was securely in her hands.

Taking the phone once again, she dialed the number she had committed to memory and waited for the voice on the other end. "Can I speak to Stephanie McMahon, please? . . . Oh, okay . . . Um, yeah. Tell her that Cameron Tucker called, and that I appreciate the offer, but I'm going to stay where I am for the time being."


End file.
